Excerpts of Togetherness
by Andra Sashner
Summary: Collection of fluffy oneshots from the lives of my favourite pairing: Eiri & Shuichi are living together, contentedly in love, and completely NOT at peace. But then again it's always going to be an ongoing adventure for these two... sigh
1. Exorcising Pink

_Exorcising Pink_

Eiri discovers he has a rather bad obssession...

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Uesugi "Yuki" Eiri really liked the colour pink.

His eyes were drawn to the colour, his favourites being the bright neon shade similar to his lover's hair, or the dusky tint like… other parts of the boy. It was a bright yet sometimes sensual colour, in his opinion. He didn't mind wearing it, either, secure with his bisexuality and he didn't care what other people thought about a man wearing a supposedly girly colour.

But he decided that he could never tell his lover, or the boy just might squeal at a deafeningly loud volume before glomping him to the ground. And that would be just what he needed at this point, having just come to the realisation himself, a knock on his back and the weight of the boy in his lap. He could predict what would happen next: Shuichi would think it was cute of him to like pink and say so, and comment that it was –Gods—so romantic.

No.

He didn't need that right now. What he would prefer to have is time to figure out how to deal with this new obsession of his. He didn't want it and he didn't like it and he was certain that he did not want the brat to find out. So he did what he thought would be the most logical thing to do:

He denied himself.

Eiri went about the bedroom and gathered up all the pink he could see. The rose silk shirt he had purchased only last month but already worn more than ten times, the muted pink striped neck tie he had chosen to relieve an all black outfit, and the pink underwear that had previously been white until Shuichi had washed them with one of his red shirts. He scrounged about indiscriminately, tossing all the items into a box, including the pink Kumagurou-copy bunny his lover had left on the bedside table.

He methodically rummaged through the rest of their apartment until he was satisfied he'd gathered all the pink items in the house and boxed it away. Then he closeted himself in his study, satisfied with his morning's achievement and settled down to work.

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"Tadaima!" yelled a familiar voice from the door, twelve hours later. The call was followed by the sound of the door slamming and two thumps that would probably be the brat's shoes bouncing off the hardwood of the foyer floor. The footsteps pounded noisily down the hall toward him, and Eiri sighed as he continued tapping out the words flowing from his mind.

"Eiri!" Shuichi exclaimed excitedly, bouncing into the room. He flung his arms around the stoic writer, gave him a wet kiss on the neck and released the man to perch himself on the stool next to the desk. "You've been writing all day again!" Shuichi scolded, suddenly frowning at his lover.

"And how would you know that?" Eiri asked, not even bothering to look up from the composition of the fluff scene on his laptop. He knew the brat had this uncanny way of knowing things about him, but really this was taking the cake.

"You have that lopsided hunch to your posture, that's how!" Shuichi tugged on Eiri's sleeve, successfully getting the writer to finally face him.

"I'm busy, brat…" the writer growled. _Gods, such pink hair…_

"I brought dinner, let's go eat." He smiled, wide and sweet. "If you've been here all day then you must be starving by now."

Eiri's stomach, at that moment, voiced its agreement with the little singer. With a grin, Shuichi jumped up and ran for the door, calling over his shoulder,

"I'm going to put the food in the oven to heat and take a quick shower," he disappeared out the door, yelling as he went, "and when I get out, you had better have shut that laptop down!"

Hmph. The novelist turned back to his work.

Fifteen minutes later, the smells from the kitchen drifted in and sank down into his stomach as though echoing the emptiness. And just as he tilted the laptop screen down, Shuichi came bounding into the room smelling of strawberries. The little singer grabbed his hand and, ignoring Eiri's grumbling, pulled him out of his chair, down the hall and into the kitchen.

As Shuichi bent to the oven , Eiri caught a glimpse of flesh through the low armhole of the boy's loose tank top. A glimpse of a nipple.

A very _pink_ nipple.

It was such an innocent manoeuvre, with a padded cloth in hand to pull out the stoneware dish of Lasagne, but it had him scowling with renewed vigour.

Shuichi set it on the dining table and snagged a bag of shredded cheese from the refrigerator to sprinkle across the top of the meal. Eiri liked Italian with extra cheese, and his stomach rumbled again, urging him to hurry. Plates, knives and forks were all set out, so he served, and sat to dine with his lover.

"Yum!" Shuichi giggled as he ate. "This is really good!"

Eiri looked up just in time to watch the brat's very pink tongue slide out and sweep up the tomato sauce on his equally pink lips. Growling, the writer stuffed another forkful into his mouth and grumpily chewed, looking everywhere but at the boy sitting directly across the table from him. They ate in silence for a while, with regular punctuations as Shuichi voiced his appreciation.

"Eiri, are you alright?"

The novelist refused to look up.

"You know, you shouldn't eat too fast after having not eaten all day, or you might get indigestion."

"I'm fine," he lied, and continued with his meal, helping himself to another serving.

Shuichi sighed, obviously not believing him, but said nothing. They wordlessly finished with their meal and cleared up, Shuichi breaking the silence to hum to himself as he did the dishes. As Eiri was turning away, he noticed his lover's shorts had ridden up his thighs a little, revealing the moist imprint the cloth had left over that tender backside from having sat on the creases for the duration of the meal. The flesh was crease-marked and quite brightly pink…

He stormed out and down the hall to the bedroom, to grab some clothes and take a shower. Scrubbing the water into his hair, he grumbled about never being able to escape the colour again since that singer had moved in. He turned to retrieve his shower gel… and stopped.

There on the shelf stood a clear plastic bottle of the pink strawberry-scented shower gel Shuichi liked so much.

Lips curling, he uttered an inarticulate snarl of disgust, picking the bottle up with just two fingers and aimlessly tossing it out of the shower stall. Crossly, he completed his ablutions and, ignoring the bottle on the floor, stomped his way out not bothering to dress. He draped a towel about his hips, scooped up his clothes and, dripping along the hall, mutely grumbled his way to the bedroom… and froze.

There on the bed lay Shuichi on his stomach, glancing back at Eiri over his shoulder. The singer had just caught sight of the half-naked writer yet already the brightest pink blush was blooming across his cheeks.

"I am never going to escape Pink, am I?" Eiri senselessly demanded, wet and dripping in the doorway.

"Pink?" Startled, Shuichi glanced up to meet his gaze, expression clearly confused.

"Yes, Pink!" Eiri hurled the handful of clothes in his grasp across the room and stomped up to the foot of the bed. "Pink, the colour!" he raged, "It's everywhere and I can't exorcise it!"

The boy sat up, brows furrowed. "But, Eiri," he whined, "_I'm_ Pink! My hair, my strawberry-scented stuff and my favourite clothes…"

"Your tongue, your nipples, your skin when it's tender…" he growled, bad-tempered, not really thinking about what he said.

"I see," Shuichi murmured, suddenly smiling, a devilish look dawning in his lovely amethyst eyes as he reached for his own clothes. "Well then, I suppose the only way to get you to accept it is if you get used to it." He slowly slid his shirt up, exposing first his tanned torso and then the nipples Eiri had just been complaining about before pulling it over his shoulders and tossing it aside.

"Pink," said the little tease, pointing to a nipple. He slowly slid the finger up toward his mouth, watching as Eiri's eyes fixed on the digit then indicated his lips. "Pink," he said, then slowly slid out his tongue and swept it suggestively over the length, sucking briefly before licking the fingertip and whispering, pointing to the wet muscle, "Pink."

Shuichi slid the wet finger down over his chin, down his chest and stomach toward the tiny shorts before slipping the finger into the waist band and pausing to say, "Pink _and_ purple down there, Eiri." He gently undulated his hips, giggling softly, "Want to see?"

"I hate pink," Eiri belligerently insisted as he dropped the towel and slunk up the bed. He leaned over to cover Shuichi's lithe little body with his own, bending to capture the boy's smiling pink mouth, and whispered,

"But I like it on you."

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Review or comment, please!


	2. Glimpsed in Passing

_Glimpsed in passing_

A former lover watches Yuki Eiri from afar...

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Yuki Eiri.

He looked hot, always had. Wasn't that why she'd gotten into bed with him all those years ago?

She looked out across the dance floor, into the mad, gyrating crush of people and watched from this higher perch; watched that distinctive blonde head nod to the music. She admired his attire, his tight leather trousers and long black tank top with black leather-trimmed sneakers. The shirt was so tight it outlined his taut abs and broad, muscled shoulders, his pectorals pressed prominently against the fabric.

She felt her mouth go dry.

Had he always been so built? Probably has a new work out regime rather than staying home as used to. She'd heard how much more into spotlight he'd stepped, dragged out by his attention-seeking lover. She remembered what he had felt like, what he had looked like, very clearly, after all. She watched him now, helplessly comparing.

Hmm... she'd not known he could dance. Eyes closed and feeling the beat, his slender, muscled form moved easily to the heavy bass in Pump Panel Reconstruction remix of _Confusion_, arms wrapped around the tiny form leaning back into his chest.

Shindou Shuichi.

That little singer really was cute. And he really was little, his head leaning back to rest on Yuki's shoulder didn't tip upward, just nestled comfortably into the space between the writer's shoulder and neck, he was so small. He wore a sparkly pink sleeveless shirt and cropped black trousers with combat boots.

So cute.

One of the singer's thin arms had reached up over his head and was draped behind the novelist's neck. Obligingly, Yuki was slouched a little over Shindou's back, keeping close. One of Yuki's hands pressed at the singer's trim abdomen, keeping the boy backed up against himself and the other hand rested on a high perch on the singer's thigh. They danced together, moving to the beat like a single form. Both their eyes were closed, Shindou breathing open-mouthed as Yuki gyrated against him from behind. She watched as the novelist's long fingers curled around Shindou's hip bone and pressed the singer all the more firmly against his… groin. The singer gasped, lips parting further, chin angling a little more upward, his back arching just so...

Gods, they looked _hot _together.

Shindou was obviously getting a little... excited. His eyes only just open and heavy lidded, he angled his head to look up at his lover's face, but Yuki's eyes were still closed as the writer concentrated on his movements. The singer grinned a little, before pressing upward on his toes to press his open mouth against Yuki's neck.

Without pause or straightening up, Yuki lifted his chin and tilted it, giving his little lover better access. Soon, both Shindou's arms were curled over his head, wrapped around Yuki's neck, his body arching against the novelist so his mouth could continue to taste and tease. Still, they moved to the music, bodies pressed tightly together. Yuki, head still angled as Shindou explored, opened his mouth a little, a tongue darting out to moisten his lips and began to pant…

Soon, the pop-star wanted more. He turned around, arms lifting to wrap around his lover as Yuki held him closer, groins pressed together, their foreheads met and yet they continued to dance. All around them, people continued to move, pressing close but dared not intrude. The two were each other's world right now --anyone with eyeballs could see that.

As they moved, their lower bodies sliding together, it was obvious they were both developing hard-ons from hell. Already, Shindou's violet eyes were scrunched up, brows furrowed. Yuki's hands had become daring, had reached to curl around the singer's pert little ass and pull the boy flush against his own body. Yuki smirked a little, watching his lover now, at the boy's frustrated passion.

Then Yuki leaned down…

It was scorching. Open mouthed, leisurely, slowly, tasting, they kissed. Tongues slipped against the other and lips catching, without a care in the world they made love with their mouths. Occasionally, when their dancing caused particularly delicious friction, they hissed into each other's mouths. Their gasps and groans could not be heard over the pounding beats, but one could almost hear the sensuous sounds just by watching them.

Just as she was, just as she could, because the passion was almost palpable. And it turned her on.

When the kiss finally broke, Shindou was breathing heavily, his eyes had shut again and his brows were tense. Yuki's face was tight with frustration and his hands clung to his lover under the singer's clothing, seeking more skin. With his teeth, his lips dragging softly, Shindou bit at Yuki's jaw and with little nips made his way toward his lover's ear. Yuki stiffened, his hands flexing, when the boy's lips closed on an ear lobe. One could almost hear the man's soft moan…

Soon, the tension in both their bodies was unmistakeable. They would have to leave. With heavy lidded eyes and each keeping an arm around the other, they made their way off the dance floor and passed right by her.

As they did, she caught sight of the small smile Yuki fired at the boy in his arms. Indeed, they both had smiled softly at each other. It was just a moment, a small passing glimpse, a moment the two lovers shared before continuing on their way up nearby stairs toward the exit.

But it had been a moment of clarity.

On the face of that author, the known recluse, had been an expression of true… _contentment_. He had always said in interviews, on TV or in magazines, that he himself did not believe in love. He had not known what it felt like and never really wanted to. It was something he had deemed 'fickle' and 'silly'. Yet, there on his face had been a smile of such happiness, of such love, one could only feel glad for him.

As she did.

Never mind he had been an utter bastard to her. Never mind he had been a known player, had had no sense of loyalty or compassion. It would take an idiot to think he had not changed. He was no longer the same person, was no longer the heartless man she had known, no longer cold or unfeeling.

It had only been a moment, but it had been enough. With his heart in his eyes and his touch conveying his love, he seemed almost… perfect. He had become truly beautiful now.

If only just glimpsed in passing.

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Written in: 1 hour, 19 minutes, and 14 seconds when inspiration suddenly hit. 

Many thanks to Eiri-Chick for insisting I go ahead and write this. You were so patient waiting for me to come back to you on AIM after I deserted you in the middle of our chat.

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Please review or comment, thank you! 


	3. Skinning the Cat

_Skinning the Cat_

If anyone ever says he doesn't take care of his lover, he will kick their ass.

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Shuichi was the personification of music brought to life.

At least, that was in Eiri's opinion. His lover hummed, sang outright, tapped out beats with either his hands or even his feet, or whistled, and this went on at all times of wakefulness. Shuichi expressed himself with little choruses and stanzas of song at any minute if the day, and could come up with silly little things to rhyme about over something as insignificant as getting gum on his shoe. He danced to his inner sound and insisted that music was everywhere, from the whistling of a kettle to the traffic honks of a busy main street… or generally anything Eiri would logically classify as noise.

He could swear, in fact, that Shuichi made music even in sleep; that even Shu's snoring was melodious. Eiri had tried to incorporate that thought into his current novel but when he wrote it out and re-read the line, it was utterly lost in translation. He then realised he'd only thought it because he was in love with the boy… and deleted the line with relish.

Music was in his lover and there was nothing he could do about it.

Except recognise the patterns, that is. He had learned early on in their relationship that silence from the little singer-songwriter usually meant something was wrong… and that was a bad thing if only for the mere fact that it would most likely be Eiri who would need to deal with the problem. That Shuichi fidgeted and squirmed, danced and made noise, all the damn time was not what bothered Eiri anymore. It was when he wasn't chasing a writing deadline and the brat was quiet that things began to piss him off.

Like now.

Shuichi had been humming a very specific tune on and off all week.

Now, the humming itself was not something to be concerned about. What was worrisome was that Shuichi had been humming the same damn tune the entire week and Eiri now knew that blasted melody by heart. He had yet to hear the lyrics or the beat and that was what was bothering him.

His curiosity was eating him alive.

Shuichi always wrote interesting songs, using words that reflected his daily life and spelled out his emotions. And Eiri was dying to hear what the boy had come up with now, if for no other reason than to tell him it was, as always, utter crap. He wanted to know if the song was about him again, most of all. But no matter which way he thought about it, inside, outside, backwards or upside down, all Shuichi had done with the damn melody was hum it. No tapping, dancing or whistling, all he'd done with the tune was persist with that infernal humming. Pushing aside his own desires for Shuichi-s musical worship of him, he decided that his lover's behaviour was not normal.

Something was clearly wrong and it was driving him up the wall…!

So like any good boyfriend should, he had launched an investigation: Tohma didn't know what it was, because there were no current out of the norm pressures for the band. Eiri would be damned if he called Hiro, and Fujisaki had no idea what Eiri had been talking about. Sakano went into a hyperventilating state rattling off all the possible consequences for the band if Shuichi broke down… Eiri had stayed on the line to listen in and see if the producer might mention something that would ring mental bells but nothing happened. K, as usual, didn't really think there was a problem and when he didn't think there was one, he behaved as though that made the 'problem' non existent.

No score. So all that was left was to finally confront the little brat and sort this damn mess out so things could go back to normal.

"Shuichi," he said, as he scooped rice up into plastic bowls for their leisurely Saturday morning breakfast. "Are you done with that song yet?" He was irritable, comfortable in his role as the cranky lover.

"No, I'm not," Shuichi muttered as he set the table. "I've been working on it all week and it still doesn't sound right."

_I know. _"I don't care if you can't work out one song or ten," Eiri grumbled. "Just quit _humming._"

It was a very open invitation. Shuichi would get it and do something else besides hum, always jumping for the loophole in Eiri's speech. It was amazing what that kid could get away with sometimes, just by paying attention to _exactly_ what Eiri said then finding a way around it.

Sure enough…

"_When a piece of you has died and the world keeps going_

_You see no one stops for you, you can't help knowing_

_If you get left behind, when you're way off pace_

_Either you pick it up or vanish without a trace_

_There's not much choice about it, not much you can do_

_Moving with the flow, just keeping up with a few_

_Even if you're going and you keep them all in sight_

_It doesn't mean its okay or you're going to be alright…" _Shuichi's voice trailed off as he frowned, trying to make a little more progress with the song.

Eiri frowned.

He didn't like those lyrics. And he liked the probable inspiration behind it even less, whatever the hell it was. Since when did Shuichi ever feel that he would be left behind? For that matter, since when did anyone _not _pay attention to how Shuichi felt?

Damn. He thought that Shuichi was over this sort of thing. They'd been together for years and the abandonment issue between them should be old news by now…

Shit.

Eiri realised he was doing the 'selfish thing' again when this could likely have nothing to do with him at all. He just needed to calm down and focus, find out what the heck was going on and help figure things out. So he stood, pulled Shuichi away from the untouched meal, tugged the singer out into the hall and toward the bedroom. He glanced back over his shoulder to see the boy glowering at the floor.

"Eiri," he asked, "shouldn't we eat before the food gets cold?"

He sighed, pulling off his trousers, and unbuttoned shirt. In his undershirt and boxers, he got into bed and pulled a thin sheet over onto his lap. Looking back up at a still Shuichi, he opened an arm. Without hesitation, Shuichi undressed down to a similar state and got into the bed to cuddle into Eiri's chest.

As the writer rubbed comforting circles on the boy's back, Shuichi sighed and wrapped his arms about the Eiri's torso. Soon, instead of their breathing evening out into a synchronised pattern, Eiri could feel Shu tapping out a rhythm with the index finger of the hand resting on his stomach, in time to his heart rate.

"Shu-chan," he began, and watched as the singer tilted glowing eyes up at him for his use of the nick name. "What's wrong?"

He held the indigo gaze calmly, waiting patiently. He wanted to hear what was wrong, wanted to take away whatever it was that was bothering his little lover, and wanted the brat to be his usual stress-spazz self. And Shuichi understood because he nodded, put his cheek to the writer's chest letting his head be tucked under Eiri's chin. He took a breath and Eiri's arms tightened as the boy told his story. The little singer was his, the love of his life... and when all was said he'd be off to make things better again.

Pity on the person who'd have to answer to him for troubling his brat.

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	4. Always Welcome

_You're Always Welcome_

Being sweet isn't _really_ that difficult... but he'll never admit it.

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Yuki Eiri looked up from his laptop at the sound of an impossibly loud thump that reverberated through the floors and up his feet.

Eyes on the door, he pushed his chair away from his desk and stood, abandoning his laptop in favour of searching out the source of the disturbance. He knew that whatever it was, it would have something to do with Shuichi so he headed in the direction of where he had last seen his lover: the living room. Sure enough, there on the floor, in a cocoon of sheets, was what he supposed would be the boy in question.

"What are you doing, brat?" he growled.

No response.

Tilting his chin down to allow his reading glasses to slide a little down his nose, Eiri calmly regarded the mound on the floor and marched over to the shapeless bundle. Beside it, he prodded with his foot.

No response.

He braced his weight on one foot and with the other, lightly shoved the mass on the floor over. It did not come undone and instead twitched then resettled, a muffled voice muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'leave me alone'. He sighed softly before stepping over the obstruction to sit down on the couch from which the mound had fallen. The leather was still warm. Eiri crossed his right leg over the left and, left hand in his lap, slung the right across the top of the couch. He glared down at the oblivious bundle on the floor.

"What are you doing on the floor, Shuichi?" He asked politely.

"I fell…" the bundle mumbled, voice muffled.

Eiri slowly removed his glasses and set them on the little side table to his left. "What are you still doing on the floor, then?" He had a fairly good grip on his patience at the moment, having caught up to his deadline after two weeks' worth of mad through-the-night work sessions.

"What's the point?" The lump grumbled, "I'm just going to fall off again anyway." It sniffed then coughed softly.

Eiri frowned. He had caught the slight rasp in the cough, the indication that Shuichi could quite possibly be truly unwell. He leaned forward with his left hand and rummaged around a little until he touched warm skin. Feeling about a little, he moved past what he felt was a shoulder, toward the head to check for a temperature…

"OW!" Eiri snatched his hand back, clutching it with the other, and glared. "What'd you bite me for, you damn brat?!"

"Get away from me!" The bundle snarled, "I've been sick for two days and you come checking up on me _now_?! I wouldn't even be here if I wasn't afraid of contaminating Hiro!" The sheets shifted and tightened indignantly around the centre mass.

Squashing the urge to snap right back, Eiri considered the last few days. It would be Tuesday in a few minutes and Shu had been looking unwell since… hmmm… he'd gone to give the new chapter to his editor on Friday and had come home to find his lover unusually quiet. He remembered grumbling about how the idiot was only noisy when there was a deadline, and was finally keeping to himself and doing as told when the work was all done.

Well that would explain the quiet weekend and irate lover.

He sighed and stood, then planted his feet on either side of the floor cloud before carefully squatting down. He gathered the mass into his arms and stood, then turned and headed for his bedroom. Thankfully, the boy in the sheet did not struggle. It was a good sign that Eiri's touch was welcome, it meant that only minimal niceness would be required to get himself back in his lover's good graces. Now for the second status test…

Setting the wrapped Shuichi down on the bed, Eiri noisily stripped down to his boxers, making as much of a fuss of undressing as he could so that his lover would know what he was doing. He slid in under the sheets and waited.

And waited…

Test failed.

Shuichi would have kicked free of the sheet and gotten under the covers by now if Eiri were forgiven. After all, the brat never could resist him unclothed. He sighed before sitting up and pulling the mass toward him, setting it between his knees and carefully setting about unwrapping it. The 'gift' kept wrapping itself back up, however, and Eiri was beginning to get annoyed.

"Get out of there, you little shit," He snapped, finally losing his patience. "You're on the bed so you may as well get into it and get some proper sleep instead of staying all curled up like that. You'll get a back ache or something!"

"No!"

Silently counting to ten, Eiri bit his tongue and waited for his annoyance to dissipate. It would be three days now that his lover had been ill and neglected so it wasn't as though he wasn't to blame for this show of temper. He looked down at the white mound and glared.

"Shuichi," he said.

The white mass huffed.

He changed his tone and adopted a softer, cajoling one, "Shuichi…"

"What?"

_Score…_ He smiled faintly and, cradling the mass loosely in his arms, gently called "Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

At first, the package did not stir. But a moment later, the sheet twitched and a quiet grumbling could be heard. Soon enough out poked a pink mop of hair and the top half of Shuichi's face, amethyst eyes glittering in the darkness. "What?" the boy repeated, glaring.

"Come into bed with me, Shu," he slowly leaned over, closer, as he spoke. "It's cold out here, out from under the covers." He pressed closer, making the boy aware of his nudity and smiled a little, amused by the heat in those flashing eyes. He studied the furrowed brow, and coloured cheeks just brushed by Shuichi's long eyelashes. "I need you to make me warm…" he murmured suggestively. The sight of Shuichi in a temper really did wonders to Eiri's libido.

"I'm sick." Shuichi stated with poorly-disguised regret, sounding more than a little dejected. "You should stop that before you get sick too." He made no move to pull away however, and his eyes studied Eiri's bare chest before him.

Briefly considering how being sick would make an excellent reason, not excuse, to stay in bed, Eiri's smile turned a little devious. Shuichi seemed to catch on to his intentions because, with an 'eep!' of panic, he dived back out of sight into the roll of the blanket. Not to be deterred, Eiri grabbed two handfuls of the sheet and, standing up, forcefully snatched it away from the weight ensconced within.

Shuichi rolled out ungracefully and glared up at him, in a sprawl across the bed. "That blanket was nice and warm, _I_ was nice and warm!" he glanced down at the bed in disgust. "And this bed is _cold!_"

Eiri folded the oversized sheet in half and with it bundled his huddled lover into a tight little wrap, allowing the singer's head to protrude out the top. He tucked the corner in, sealing the roll, and settled himself behind Shuichi, legs to either side. He pulled his lover to him as he reclined into the pillows piled against the headboard.

He looked down at Shuichi's stormy expression. "Are you going to stay upset with me all night?"

"I have _been_ upset with you for quite a few nights now." The diminutive singer hissed, eyes flashing in a way that fascinated Eiri, then coughed. The sound was muted but then it roughly broke, forcing the small body to buck with its force.

Eiri didn't like the sound of that.

Pressing a small kiss to Shuichi's temple, he carefully extracted himself from between the boy and the pillows then gently tilted his lover to lie back where he had just been sitting, before disappearing out the bedroom door. In the kitchen, he filled the kettle and set it to boil on the stove. While waiting for the water, he set out the necessities for peppermint tea. He considered the sound of Shuichi's voice, the rough texture of it, and the cloudy pronunciation of sibilants, before taking out a small tub of eucalyptus paste.

Filling the mug and pouring the rest of the water into a basin, he took a large spoonful of the aromatic paste and swirled it into the water, the scent rising into and cooling his lungs. He covered it with a large clean washcloth and brought everything back to the bedroom. There, he wordlessly put the mug aside to cool to a drinkable temperature and set the basin on the bedside table. Eiri pulled the bundle of brat up and slid back into his previous position. He reached over for the basin then settled it before Shuichi and lifted the washcloth to drape it over the boy's head, nudging the singer to lean over and inhale the eucalyptus fumes.

After a few deep breaths and sips of tea, Shuichi peeked out from under the washcloth and studied him. "Thank you," he mumbled and turned back to the basin.

Eiri was rather glad Shuichi's voice seemed a little less raspy, the breathing less blocked. Smiling gently he leaned over, curving his body over the hunched figure between his legs. He slid an arm around the bundle and pulled the boy closer to himself. He snaked out the tip of his tongue for a quick lick before whispering, "You're welcome, Shu-chan."

_You're always welcome…_

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Review or comment, please 


	5. Kiss it Better

_Kiss it Better_

Sometimes, he just needs a _little_ attention.

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Eiri sighed.

Pausing at his writing, despite the flow of words eagerly in line to be typed out, there was something wrong. Shuichi had arrived, of that the writer was certain but after the requisite 'Tadaima', which itself had been spoken without its usual exuberance, nothing had followed. No thumps on the hardwood floor to signal the carelessly tossed aside shoes and bag, no too-loud pounding of approaching footsteps.

Shuichi had a knack for knowing when Eiri was in the mood to listen, most loudly signalled by when the writer stopped typing to pay him even a small glance. But nothing came. Still facing his laptop, Eiri's eyes moved to the door of his office which stood only slightly ajar. He could not see beyond into the darkness and could not tell if Shuichi was there just watching him… or not.

He called, "Shuichi?"

"Hn," came the voice from further down the hall.

Something was definitely the matter. Eiri frowned, debating whether to continue with his writing or to go attend to the dejected musician no doubt sulking all over his foyer for reasons unknown. Unconsciously, his fingers had already begun to type, the wave of words too strong to be held at bay for long.

Still thinking about Shuichi, he continued, letting the story take him over.

A few minutes later, his keen ears picked up the sound of a sigh coming from down the hall. Half his senses focused on the presence of who he knew to be his lover. He heard a rustle of clothes and the soft padding of Shuichi's socked feet approaching his office. Still typing, he listened. He knew when Shuichi came to stand by the door.

Still letting the words flow form his fingers, he appreciated how the singer seemed to know when not to bother him, when to wait for the signal that he was ready. Ever since that first night Shu had spent in his first apartment, when the singer had approached his door with a loud, but quickly cut-off 'Oyasumi' he had known.

Letting his touch-typing hands do the work, Eiri tilted his head toward the door and studied Shu's shadowed face. He asked softly, "Something up?"

"I missed you," said Shuichi quietly, slipping into the office at the unspoken invitation. He moved slowly, tiredly. Instead of coming to sit at his usual stool, he invited himself to sit by Eiri's feet where he laid his head on the writer's lap.

"Hungry?" Eiri asked.

"No." Shuichi was worryingly still by comparison to his usual chirpiness and the writer was beginning to worry.

He supposed he would find out soon enough once the singer sorted it out in his mind and decided to tell him. Not like the brat could hide anything from him anyway… he would tell Eiri whether the writer wanted to hear it or not. So he continued with his work-groove.

"Ne, Eiri," whispered Shuichi into the writer's leg. He moved a little, the soft strands of his hair whispering over the fabric of Eiri's trousers.

"Hn,"

"Do you think I'm too noisy?" Shu's voice was hesitant and worried --Eiri didn't need to see his face to tell. There was more to the question than the surface of it.

"Sometimes," he replied. "You make enough noise for the both of us and then some… sometimes."

Yet softer, Shuichi asked, "Do you hate me when I'm like that?"

"I never hate you, Shuichi." He felt movement from the cheek upon his leg. Perhaps Shu was smiling?

"I could never hate you either."

"Hn." Waiting for where this would lead, Eiri continued to type out the churning words in his head. He was certain more was yet to come, he would just need to be patient.

"Eiri," the singer started again, "Do you wish I was quiet all the time?"

Despite his occasional vocalisation of that desire, the writer knew he never really meant such a thing. So he honestly replied, "Sometimes, but no. Not really."

Shuichi sounded miserable when he asked finally, "Don't you wish I would just do as I'm told?"

Eiri stopped typing.

Looking down at his lap, he stared at the back of Shuichi's head. Finally, the silence got to the little singer and, unable to resist, he turned his head over and looked up at Eiri. Satisfied he had the brat's attention, Eiri asked,

"Who told you to do as you're told?"

Shuichi looked away.

Sighing again, Eiri considered the situation and mood carefully before he said, "If you didn't make so much noise, sometimes it would be nice. If you did as you were told, sometimes it would be less of a hassle. If you were quiet, sometimes I might get more work done."

The singer looked a little miserable at this. Shu's hand, the one curling at Eiri's knee, shook a little. Sensing his lover's distress, Eiri put both hands down to Shuichi's head and, with one, brushed aside the lock of hair which had fallen in his face.

"But other times," he continued, "if you didn't make as much noise, the silence would be too thick. If you did as you were told, then I wouldn't be as entertained. And if you were always quiet, then you would be like me and what would we say to each other?"

Shuichi snuggled into Eiri's leg, rubbing his cheek into the fabric.

"If you weren't you all the time," Eiri admitted, "then things would probably be very different from how they are now."

Meeting the writer's gaze, Shuichi asked timidly, "Do you really think so?"

"If you weren't so noisy, I would be absorbed by my work all the time," Eiri said. He couldn't stand silence anymore, not since Shuichi had come to live with him. "I would still be living in silence in life as well as in soul." He rolled his eyes before adding, "And you wouldn't get your lung practice."

Shu turned away again, but soft giggling rose up from the vicinity of Eiri's lap.

"And if you had listened to me back then when I'd first told you to leave me alone, you would not have come looking for me." Eiri thought back to the earlier days of their relationship with a small frown. Back then, he hadn't known what he was pushing away. "You wouldn't have demanded more from me, wouldn't have forced me to… live."

Eyes beginning to clear, Shuichi looked up at him hopefully.

"And if you were quiet, you wouldn't be so musical, I think," the writer decided with some thoughtfulness at his own words. "Your endless questions contribute to those silly ideas you develop in your head for even more crappy lyrics."

"My lyrics are _not_ crappy," argued Shuichi with a small pout.

"Just love-struck, then," Eiri murmured. He looked down at Shuichi's frown, one hand automatically reaching to smooth the wrinkles from his lover's face. He frowned himself, adding, "Don't get any ideas, you're still a brat."

Smiling outright, Shuichi whispered, "Thank you, Eiri."

Still frowning, but touched by the joy in the singer's sparkling lavender eyes, Eiri pressed a kiss to two fingers of one hand and touched the fingertips to Shuichi's forehead. In response, Shu wrapped both arms around the writer's waist, slipping his arms between Eiri's back and the backrest of his chair. Contentedly, he moved closer and simply snuggled.

And with one last stroke over Shu's pink head, Eiri lifted his hands and returned to his typing.

* * *

- 

Feed(back) me!


	6. Sunshine

_**Sunshine**  
27 May 2007_

* * *

-- 

It was raining.

It had been raining and storming everyday for the past week, Eiri observed. And he hated the rain.

He hated the rain because it had stormed or rained on most of the significant days of his life. The night he left Japan with Touma, the day he shot his first love, the day he returned to Japan and the day Shu jumped in front of his car.

Well, that last one was a pretty good thing in a list of rainy misfortunes but at the time it had been a little shaking. And it certainly had been a significant day in his life, of course.

But for the moment, Eiri disliked the rain more than ever today because he was out and had to be in it, walking down the crowded street to his meeting place with his editor. And so he felt incredibly annoyed. Well, he was always annoyed but without any rays of light in his life and through the gloomy clouds, he'd been crankier than usual.

Touma had told him so this morning.

Tatsuha had told him so yesterday.

And Mika had told him so the day before that; so there must be some truth to the words.

He'd been drinking a little more, too, over the past week since the house had become a little empty. Well… since Shuichi had left, though he had to grumble a bit tom himself at having to admit it, even if only to himself and in his head.

Frowning, Eiri pushed open the café door and glanced about before making his way to where Mizuki sat waving him discreetly over. He quietly made his way over, ignoring everyone else in the room, including one waitress' wide eyed stare and muted squeal to her companion of, _there he is again!_

"Good afternoon, Yuki-san," Mizuki greeted cheerfully but quietly, still mindful of their public location. He growled in reply but she just chuckled, "Yes, it's nice to see you too."

"Coffee. Black," He told the waitress who came to take his order. When she hovered a bit longer admiring him, after Mizuki had shaken her own head, clutching a steaming cup of tea between both hands, he added for good measure, "Now."

The young woman took in his icy tone and dangerous glare, and beat a hasty retreat. Watching her go, Mizuki sarcastically commented in a deceptively casual, sweet tone of voice, "Your reputation as a charmer surely suits you."

He muttered, "And you, be quiet." He fished out his lighter and cigarette pack, and lit up.

Mizuki cheekily parried, "But however will I tell you about the promotions schedule of your new book?"

"Just tell me I won't be away from home for more than two weeks," he demanded, blowing a lungful of smoke away from her.

"Yes, everything that you specified is taken care of as well as the 'no more than two weeks' request," she calmly confirmed, taking a sip of her tea and ignoring his bad habit, "Including the smoking rooms in hotels known for good food. This is not the first time I've sent you on tour." She set the cup down carefully before asking gently, "How have you been?"

"Fine," He said, "Perfectly." He quirked a brow at her in curiosity over what prompted such a personal conversation so early in their meeting. She usually reserved such concerns for _after _business matters had been completed.

Softly, a little hesitantly, she offered, "It's just that I know Shindou-san has been away on tour—"

Eiri growled warningly, interrupting, "I am aware of my lover's activities, Mizuki."

"Yes, of course you are," She back-pedalled a bit, "I was concerned because it's always difficult to be separated from one's lover and—"

"What or what does not happen in my house and who or who is not in it is none of your concern," he snapped quietly but just as icily as usual, moving his elbow out of the way when the waitress returned with his coffee. There was a long silence while he smoked and Mizuki drank her tea. Right up until he finished the stick in fact.

"Your tickets are in here, along with the schedule and itinerary," Mizuki said in her business tone when Eiri stubbed his cigarette out, sliding a brown Manila envelope across the table. In turn, she receives a similar envelope containing the CD and printed manuscript. "There is another schedule I wanted to discuss with you for radio and TV appearances. I have chosen your favourite hosts and kept with them, the result is very similar to your last book release."

He nods before drinking the rest of his coffee down and makes to rise. She isn't surprised. As he stands, he tells her, "Just email me the final schedule. You are right, you've done this all before."

After paying for their beverages on the way out, he trudged gloomily back to his car. There, the writer sighed before pulling out of his parking lot and drove slowly away to meet Touma at the NG building café. He drove past the posters advertising the Bad Luck concert dates and the product advertisement billboards. He ignored them all and growled to himself as he passed, intent on getting to his late lunch meeting.

"Hello, Eiri-san," Touma greeted pleasantly. The writer growled again. His throat was beginning to itch. "Yes, it's good to see you too."

"That's what Mizuki said," Eiri grumbled, "With the same sarcastic tone, too."

"How are you doing in your big empty house?" The synth-master asked calmly. Eiri sighed instead of giving in to the urge to growl. "Shindou-san sends his regards."

"Shuichi called you?" Eiri asked with some surprise. And guilt. He hadn't been answering his phone lately and had been making do listening to the brat's epic-length rambles on the answering machine.

"I called Mr K to ask how their latest concert had been," Touma explained casually. "And I was able to speak to all the members of Bad Luck. Shindou-san waited patiently through my instructions, and afterwards asked me how you were and asked that I give you his best."

"Hn," the writer said dismissively, looking up at the waiter who just arrived to take their order. He ordered a plate of sashimi and a glass of green tea. Succinctly. Touma smiled.

After his late lunch, Eiri went home. The house did seem rather big and empty, he thought, since Touma put it that way. Damn. He made some coffee and tucked himself away in his office to write the rest of the current week away.

--

Indeed, a week later, not much writing had been done.

He checked his calendar, not that he needed to. He knew what today was, and where the concert would be. And that Shuichi would be back later this evening, unless that Manager of his made him stay someplace 'safe' if the concert was particularly successful.

He hadn't left his apartment in a few days. And it was still raining.

In fact he'd only been out once since the day he met with Mizuki and Touma in one day. Touma, that meddlesome bastard, had come knocking to bother him about coming out of his 'big and empty' house, Tatsuha had complained their father was getting a little worried and Mika had come ringing his doorbell a lot. He knew it was her, she shrieked too loudly through the front door for him not to notice. He wished he were deaf. He probably wouldn't get upset by Shuichi's chatter or his music, too. Heck, the brat could cry and he wouldn't hear that either…

Feeling a little guilty at that last vicious thought, the writer put his head in his hands and sighed. Frustrated, he got up to cook. Thirty minutes later, he belatedly realised he had made enough for two. Actually, he had made enough for himself and the garbage disposal disguised as his lover and pop star.

With a shake of his head at his thoughts, he collected his place and went to watch TV, managing to catch the second half of his lover's last live show of the concert tour broadcast from Tokyo's NK hall. He watched quietly, admiring Shuichi's moves and noticing how much thinner the brat looked on TV. He scoffed at the ending song dedicated to him, and when the channel chut down for the night, Eiri figured it was time for bed. Shu would get home when he got home, he would just need to wait.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Repeatedly.

--

Hours later, warmly wrapped up in Egyptian cotton sheets and bored out of his mind, Eiri listened as the front door opened then shut, the sound echoing down the hall. The thump of a dumped bag and the familiar twin thunks of removed shoes soothed Eiri like nothing had over the past two weeks. His eyelids seemed heavy suddenly, but he pulled himself out of bed and padded down the hall.

"Welcome home," he softly called. From the shadows, Shu gave a tired smile. His shoulders were hunched and there were bags beneath his eyes. He looked worse in person than he had on TV.

"It's nice to be back," the singer whispered hoarsely, ignoring the rest of his gear and zeroing in on his lover.

"Idiot," Eiri sighed as he moved closer, "You've sung yourself raw again."

Shuichi smiled guiltily, meeting the writer halfway down the hall. They came together naturally, arms lifting and closing tightly, holding the other close. Shuichi's head tucks naturally under the tall writer's chin and their bodies fit comfortably together as though they've found where they belong.

"You need a shower," Eiri commented, not moving. Shuichi merely nodded, also not releasing his hold. Awkwardly, the writer maintained his embrace as he manoeuvred them about face and walked his little lover backward toward their bedroom and bathroom.

Still maintaining his hold, he set only one hand at carefully working off his lover's clothing and both of Shuichi's little hands worked on loosing his clothes in turn. They stumbled a bit stepping into the shower's warm spray together and barely managed to have a decent wash before, smiling idiotically at each other, they towelled themselves off and went to bed.

They made love passionately, slowly, clinging tightly to one another; a slow and sensual meeting too long put off by their recent merciless separation. And, arms wrapped tightly around each other, warm and sated, they were soothed to sleep by the rhythmic pattering on the rain on the windows.

In the morning, Eiri awakened feeling rested and calm, sunshine streaming through the small parting between curtains. There was the scent of fresh coffee in the air and when he rolled over, Shuichi was sitting on the edge of the bed sipping hot chocolate. But in his other hand was a steaming mug of coffee. And on his face, skin still wrinkled from sleep, was the smile the writer had missed waking to.

"Good morning, Eiri," the kid said softly.

For once, Eiri had no inclination to growl at the greeting. He nodded instead and sat up, propping himself with pillows, to accept the mug. Shu flopped over on his lover and snuggled quietly, pressing his face into his lover's stomach, arms clinging.

Eiri sipped his coffee, running his fingers through his lover's hair. He absently looked out the window again and realised, the ghost of a smile forming on his face, that the rain has stopped.

--


	7. Faith of One

Faith of One  
EoT  
1 April 2007

_It only takes one person to believe in you._

* * *

--

Uesugi "Yuki" Eiri, in a recent poll across his readership and general target market, discovered he was best known for three things.

Number one: His good looks.

Closely rivalled by number two: His stoic coolness and dry-wit charm;

Unerringly in number three: His romance novel writing.

It rather irked him, as he read the article, to see that his actual work ranked third under completely non-work related points. It irked him because he'd always felt one should be known for the reasons they had stepped into the spotlight. And he also felt one best became successful by not intending to personally pander to the spotlight.

Well, he didn't give a rat's ass about what people thought of him… but still.

In any case, it wasn't as though he could voice his opinion and expect it to be paid attention to, nor affect his fan base's truest opinions of him. Well, renouncing writing and relocating to some obscure and remote part of the world would never work; there was no revenge to be had or some kind of outlet for his frustration to abuse. So instead, he stuck his cigarette between his lips and vented the irritation by rolling the magazine up and throwing it aside…

And right at Shuichi who sat in a peculiar position perpendicular to him on the L-shaped couch, innocently reading his own magazine, Bop Peat. Upon impact, the singer gave a startled squawk and promptly fell off the couch. Peering down his nose at the tangle on the floor, Eiri slowly got to his feet and took a puff of tobacco.

"If you hadn't been sitting so awkwardly, you'd never have fallen," he declared disdainfully, nose wrinkling ever so slightly.

Shuichi looked up at him wide eyed, headset fallen down around his neck, magazine in a sprawl before him, pen in hand and with a line of ink across his shirt front. His notebook, which had narrowly escaped accompanying the fall, took this opportunity to slide unceremoniously off the edge of the couch and plop onto the floor beside him. The noise seemed to break the spell.

"Eiri!" Shuichi admonished, beginning to pout. "What was that for?"

"For no other reason than that you're an idiot," Eiri smoothly replied, taking the last breath off of his cigarette. He bent to grind it out as Shu, in turn, began to collect his things.

"The idiot is not an idiot!" Shuichi declared a little absently as he moved. Straightening up, Eiri rolled his eyes at that. He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching the little singer. "And even if I was, that is not a good enough reason." Standing, Shu waved his finger under Eiri's nose and told him, "If it were, it would make as much sense for me to throw something at you for being so smart."

Shuichi, unsurprisingly, worked himself up so much he dropped his magazine. As he bent, Eiri turned away for the kitchen to get himself a beer, muttering, "I rest my case."

"What was that?!" Shuichi loudly demanded.

"I said," Eiri called over his shoulder, "you're cute."

"That's not what you said!" Shu argued. He dumped his things onto the couch, obviously intending to follow. The rest of what he said was drowned out when the kitchen door swung shut behind the escaping writer. Not feeling particularly remorseful his lover was wasting breath, the author continued on his search and consume mission. Eiri was just popping the tab on his can when the door opened. "—so I deserve to know what you said about me!"

A brilliant idea struck Eiri at that moment, an opportunity to vent as well as get Shu to shut up. He waved his free hand casually and asked, "Do you want to know what I said or do you want a kiss?"

The mask of temper slowly melted off Shuichi's face at that, leaving Eiri a few moments of rare silence to drink his beer in peace. Delight and exasperation warred on the singer's baby-smooth face and the writer watched, trying to look as disinterested as he could.

"Did you read something about me being worth more as a singer than you as a writer again? Because you're behaving in almost the same way as that time…"

Oh, that had been a good one, Eiri knew. The article had put him in a snit for a whole day and Shu had taken a good brunt of his nasty temper over it, too. Mr K, annoyed at having a morose singer instead of an upbeat and cheery one, knocked the story out. Laughing, he had called the author and confirmed that, by ratio of one third as part of Bad Luck, Shindou Shuichi did NOT earn more than Yuki Eiri. The article had printed the entire band's net income, not solely Shuichi's.

But that was neither here nor there.

Really.

He downed the last of his can and as he tossed it into the bin, said, "Well, if you don't want the kiss…"

Grabbing him, Shuichi excitedly squealed, "No! I want it, I want it!" Giggling, he clung to the crabby writer with his usual tenacity, pulled up onto his toes and lifted his chin, childishly over-puckering his lips, eyes squeezed shut.

"Stop that," Eiri muttered, leaning forward a bit to put an arm around his silly boyfriend. Shu opened one eye and smiled, he opened the other eye then winked it, both arms wrapping around the tense writer. He was practically purring by this point. But suddenly, Shu's smile faded.

"Hmm? You're actually annoyed about something," he observed. Tipping his head adorably to one side, eyes wide and concerned, he asked, "What is it?" Eiri knew better than to argue so he growled instead. "Is it about your Profile poll?" The writer made to let Shuichi go but the singer held fast. "They're idiots!" Shu declared so vehemently that Eiri paused.

Blinking, the writer looked down at his little lover's stormy expression and watched Shu's face grow annoyed for a completely different reason.

"What do they know?! You can't help being so handsome," Shuichi ranted, not realising that the line had earned him a small smile. He growled, "I don't write music for people, I write it because music is a part of me. The way words and stories are a part of you. So I don't think you write books for your nameless fans, you don't write them because it's what they want from you. You write your stories and show them your world because it's something _you _do!" The singer took a deep breathe, eyes refocusing on the still-silent novelist in his arms. He added quietly, forcefully, "And whatever you do, Eiri, I love you."

"Hn," Eiri said, pulling Shu closer, "Noisy brat."

"_Your _brat," the moppet corrected, smile surfacing on his sweet face.

The writer growled without thinking, "You'd better be."

"Always," Shu promised quietly, rising on tip toe to meet Eiri's lips. His voice took on a disturbingly serious and gently possessive note when he murmured, "Always mine."

To Eiri, who normally found such possessiveness irritating, the words sounded strangely appeasing.

--


	8. Okaeri

**Okaeri  
**(Welcome home)  
23 May 2007

_Home is the person, not the place._

* * *

_Tadaima_ – Japanese customary "I'm back" call when arriving home. In its full form "Tadaima modorimashita" is literally, "And now I have returned." 

_Okaeri_ – Response or pre-empt to "Tadaima", a standard "Welcome home" greeting. Each greeting can be said before or after the other, there is no formal order to saying one has returned to welcoming the person back.

* * *

-- 

Eiri gripped his hands into fists, just barely able to restrain himself.

Had the situation not been so dire, so _desperate_, he might laugh at himself. Because before today had anyone told him he would be afraid of Shuichi, he would have told them they'd lost their mind. But that was precisely the situation he, Yuki Eiri, had found himself in this moment; in fear.

Of Shuichi, no less.

Their argument had been rather brutal, passions high and tempers short, the words thrown without real meaning or even understanding behind them. The feelings outpoured in an uncontrolled torrent with little thought of the consequences of those words. They'd both been exhausted, unwell and overworked and… they should have known better. They both should have.

But the sharper tongue had won again, as it had always in the past, and Eiri had spoken the words no man should ever tell his lover,

_I wish I had never met you._

And there before his eyes were the consequences. Eiri clenched his fists tighter as he looked down from the fourth floor window toward the apartment building driveway. It was the dead of night, there was no one around, and snow flakes fell silently in the ominous darkness layering the small figure who stood bundled up warmly, alone in the half-shadows.

Shuichi.

He'd been dropped off by his manager after work some time ago, late at night already. That had been nearly two hours ago yet there he still was. Eiri knew. He had been watching and waiting for his lover to come home since Touma had called to let him know the kid had left the NG building.

Shuichi had paced a little, sat down on first one bench by the walkway to the building from the pavement, paced some more then sat in another bench nearby. He'd looped circles around the few trees lining the way, hooked his mitten-covered hands over a low branch and swung himself back and forth. He'd even walked along the low brick wall skirting the walkway, arms spread out at each side for balance, like the kid he behaved.

But then there were those moments Shuichi stopped and stared up at the building, eyes fixed on their bedroom window, arms hanging loosely by his sides. Those moments made Eiri's blood run cold.

The writer stood there by the French windows which opened out onto the balcony. He too, paced and worried and fidgeted. He watched Shuichi watch the apartment, watched Shuichi take out his keys and pick out the one for the apartment but only stare at it as though wondering why it was still there.

Wondering _why_. And that scared Eiri, though he would never admit it, scared of what it all might mean, of what tonight would change.

_If_ he let it change.

Shaking his head, he turned away from the window. With long strides, he made for the hall cabinet and snatched out his coat and in house slippers took the elevator down to the ground floor. In the lobby, he strode purposefully out the front entrance and into the darkness.

Shuichi stood there still, arms wrapped around himself and staring at the sky. Eiri realised the brat had let his mouth open, waiting for a snowflake to drop in.

For a few moments, he stared. Shu looked beautiful and ethereal in the moonlight, pink hair looking silver in some places where the light reflected. The singer's padded coat made him look like a miniature Michelin man and he seemed smaller than ever, frailer, more delicate. Watching the kid, Eiri regretted everything he had said all the more because this small person, this small being who contained so much life and love, who gave it all away to him everyday, had been hurt by his senseless words.

And because no matter how angry Shuichi's words had been the kid had never said anything he could regret. Everything he'd said had been true anyway.

"Shuichi?" Eiri called softly. Shu paused then slowly tilted his head back down, wide surprised eyes meeting Eiri's and the writer's heart clenched; the young man looked so desolate. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

It took almost a full minute for Shuichi to answer. The singer blinked and stared then blinked again, looking perplexed before slowly answering, "Yes. Very much."

"I made dinner," the writer said almost gently, coaxingly. "Left it in the oven, it's still hot."

Shuichi stared again, head tilting adorably to one side in genuine puzzlement. Slowly, he said, "That's… nice."

"Do you--" Eiri's voice cut out from under him and he had to clear his throat before he could continue, his voice low, "Do you want some?"

Shuichi looked away then and Eiri felt his stomach bottom out. Shu seemed lost all of a sudden, glancing about as though seeing where he was to reaffirm his location, rubbing the back of his head a little… sheepishly? Eiri frowned a little to himself, calling,

"Shuichi?"

"Yeah," said the kid softly, automatically. He met Eiri's eyes for a long while, brows furrowing and straightening out then repeating the process. He seemed incredibly uncertain when he said, "Yeah, I would like some."

Slowly Shuichi bent and picked up his bag, and as soon as the kid was near Eiri took the bag from him and carried it himself. He kept Shu close the rest of the way, by standing near the kid, not touching him for fear of being rejected; his touch shied from.

They moved together quietly, not speaking. But even though Shu seemed less tense by the time they had sat to eat... the kid didn't seem to want to meet his gaze and he… despaired. Eiri picked at his food quietly, not hungry now that his stomach seemed to believe it was an acrobat. He watched Shuichi do the same and sighed, his chest tight.

Watching Shu's listless movements, he wondered when his lover would really be with him instead of just in the same room; when the kid would really feel and be at home. It was then that, without thinking, he said under his breath,

"_Okaeri_."

Shuichi looked up at him, meeting his eyes and looking deeply into him, expression sad but searching. Eiri shuddered, hoping that whatever the kid wanted to find, whatever good it was the blind idiot saw in him and kept them together, _please let him find it again._

It took a long while and the singer sighed himself, the shadows in his eyes still apparent, but receding. He whispered, making Eiri wonder when his life had begun to hang in the balance of the one word,

"_Tadaima."_

--


	9. Possible Points of Conflict

Possible Points of Conflict  
18th June 2007  
Excerpts of Togetherness  
Gravitation  
PG15

* * *

-- 

Eiri was driving quietly, minding his own business when the non-stop chatter from his passenger seat abruptly cut off.

After appreciating the silence for a few moments, warning bells began to chime in his head and he finally tossed his lover a questioning glance. The moppet smiled wistfully before confessing,

"I wish I could drive."

Assaulted by images of pink road rage and the subsequent crash result (ergo, damage) possibilities, Eiri concentrated on taking deep breaths before quickly finding a firm and Shuichi-logical way of dissuading the singer of the possibilities of this particular desire.

Belying his anxiety, wondering if Shuichi only thought these unreasonable things up to make him sweat, he casually pointed out, "But then if you were a driver and not a passenger, you wouldn't be able to listen to music or sketch. Or sing or write or—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Shu pouted, childishly sinking into his seat and folding his arms.

Eiri sternly declared, not without an air of superiority, "Driving requires dedicated focus."

"I can focus!" Shuichi predictably protested.

"On driving?" The writer lazily raised one brow.

"Um, I don't know." Shuichi squirmed a bit, not looking at his lover. "Won't I not know until I try? Or practice?" He began to look a little hopeful, and Eiri began to worry.

"How about you imagine you're driving this car," He sensibly suggested, despite his concerns. "You try and imagine where to gas, brake and turn the car."

"That makes sense…"

_Walked right into it_, Eiri thought and he smirked before saying, "I can even get you one of those kiddie practice wheels." He pointed to the empty space above the passenger glove compartment. "We can stick it to the dashboard on your side over there."

Shuichi, without any appreciation for his lover's sense of humour, said flatly, "That's not funny."

Eiri's smirk began to hold the hints of a smile. "I seem to think so."

"You're just being mean," the singer accused with a small frown.

"I'm trying to help and you throw it back in my face?" Eiri shook his head with mock offence.

"I'm not rejecting your help!" Shuichi quickly corrected. He quieted at the sight of his lover's amusement. "Just… questioning your methods."

"How about we get you a bicycle instead?" Eiri mentally pictured a hot pink bicycle with silver handle streamers. "You know how to get to all the places you usually go to, and you see the roads when you take the buses so I'm sure you're familiar with the routes. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Sounds kind of fun, actually. I like that idea!" Shuichi bounced a bit in his seat but the delight quickly slid off his face when he said, "But what happens when it rains?"

"Then you take public transport or something, moron."

Shuichi tapped his chin thoughtfully, considering. "But then again…"

"What now?" Eiri growled, wary of where Shuichi's unique logic was taking the kid.

"I'll get really tired, though. And sweaty…" the singer scrunched up his face, "Eww…" Eiri smirked again and when Shuichi glanced over at him, he gave the singer a meaningful, appraising look. "Eiri, you pervert!" Shu blushed. "Well, _that_ kind of tired and sweaty is a good thing, but not from riding a bike. Hey, maybe I could get an electronic bike!"

"What the hell are those?"

"You know, with the little engine in it?" Gleefully, Shuichi declared, "No huffing and puffing, no tired and sweaty!"

"Electric, not electronic," Eiri absently corrected. He frowned a bit, "And those are kind of heavy, aren't they? What if you tip it over and can't pull it back up? And are you sure you wouldn't run someone over on something like that?"

Ignoring the implications that his lover was actually worried about him, and thankfully not making a noisy fuss over that, Shuichi chose instead to say, "You're not being very supportive"

"Just being the very necessary voice of the Devil's Advocate here." Eiri scoffed, "You never know."

Ignoring him, Shuichi mused to himself, "Well maybe I could get a small one?"

"Like a kiddie one?" The writer snickered, "With a pair of trainer wheels?"

Flashing Eiri a cute little glare, Shuichi told his lover, "You're beginning to annoy me."

"You're welcome. Do I get a kiss?"

"No," Shuichi shot back. "You get to listen to me think about getting a small electric bike."

"Look, just forget it." Eiri sighed, "Your hairdryer probably has a bigger engine than those things anyway."

Shaking his head, Shu asked, "So what do _you_ suggest?"

The writer gave an internal sigh of relief and stated, "Stick with K or Sakano or maybe Hiro driving you."

"But—"

"And when K shoots too much or Sakano faints fucking dead away, or Hiro's at work earlier than you," Eiri knew he was going to regret it but he said it anyway, "I'll drive you."

Shuichi frowned at him but sat back in his seat. A moment later, a calculating expression crossed his face which Eiri, despite only watching his lover from the corner of his eyes, did not miss and he asked, "What about when it rains?"

Eiri smiled to himself, understanding what Shuichi truly meant, and replied, "Then you take public transport or something, moron."

Shu grumbled, "Aaaaaand back to square one."

--

* * *

_Author Notes:_

_Many thanks to the reviewers, most especially to Pat-chan (a constant source of pats on my back) and Vindaloo (my wonderful but currently preoccupied beta --yet never neglects to fuel me up with kind words)._

_I may not always reply to all the reviews or note them in my Author Notes, but those words you spare me do mean a lot to me and my creativity. Many thanks to you all for reading, and for taking the time to post a comment or review._

_--_


	10. None of their Business

_**None of their Business  
**14 June 2007  
**Fandom: **__ Gravitation  
**Rating:**__ PG  
**Summary:**__ Eiri gets every right to be annoyed  
**Warnings:**__ Sticky romantic fluff_

_**Author Notes:** This chapter is for **Cat--Demoness** who, I think, is going to curse me again. And my thanks go to **Kirayasha** for the kind words. **Vindaloo**, I miss you lots. Good luck with those vamps.  
_

* * *

-- 

"If you would please be so kind, Eiri," Touma said with his usual calculated sweetness, "I really need Shuichi to stay with the band."

"He's in Tokyo, it's the end of the tour. I don't see why he can't just stay with me the way he usually does," Eiri argued. "He doesn't need to stay with his band mates one more night and if he honestly wanted to, he would have told me."

"I doubt he would mention this one to you," the NG President said with some conviction. "I happen to know you have not spoken to each other in several days."

Curious, Eiri asked, "And do you happen to know why that would be?"

"Let's just say that this is one of those times where he would find it difficult to talk to you," Touma gently suggested.

A sliver of fear streaked through the writer's heart, and he wondered –not for the first time— if someone had stole the brat away from him over the tour. He hadn't been very patient with Shuichi's calls and he hadn't been to any of the brat's out of Tokyo shows. In the next moment, he decided that would be—

"Bullshit."

"Can I not make this a personal favour?" Touma asked, clearly attempting a change in tactic.

Eiri asked slowly, as though considering the question, "On this occasion where it concerns Shuichi and you are not making sense?" He huffed then stated very firmly, "No."

"This will be very beneficial to Shindou-san, Eiri," Touma insisted gently. "I promise you."

"He won't do any better staying with the band," the writer insisted.

With very well disguised triumph, Touma pointed out, "Then there would make no difference in him staying with you or not."

Eiri snapped, "What the fuck is this really about?"

With a sigh, Touma explained, "Shuichi needs rest and some… space. I also believe that with more time with his band he will be better prepared to meet this coming concert."

Sensing more than ever that there was something afoot, Eiri growled warningly, "Touma…"

"I am also of the opinion you need your own space," the synth-master said brightly, "You have a deadline coming up soon. So isn't this a grand opportunity to get more work done without him there to interrupt you?"

Eiri rubbed at his temple tiredly, _"Touma."_

"Honestly, you would think I had other—"

"I happen to _know_ you have another motive," the wrtier snapped, "Now spit it out."

Definitely pushing it, Touma declared, "I never spit."

Completely frustrated and definitely not in the mood to deal with his best friend's intricate word-play, Eiri growled, "One more deviation from this conversation and I _will_ drive down to your office for the sole purpose of knocking back in the logic your fashion senses have robbed you of."

"Are you saying I don't dress well?"

Eiri put the phone down and stood. On his way out of his office, his mobile phone rang. He ignored it and proceeded to the bedroom to fetch a clean shirt. The mobile rang out as he was pulling his old shirt off, but moments later the house phone began to ring. As he buttoned up, Touma's voice came over loud and clear over the answering machine,

"You are much too violent, Eiri-san," chided the synth-master. There was a dramatically executed long-suffering sigh before, "And to tell you the truth, Shuichi has been rather… down lately and I thought that since you might have had a… disagreement, this would be a good opportunity for you each to have some space from the other." Eiri snorted, and as if hearing it Touma continued, "I know you're scoffing at me now, but I would rather not have you both involved in another of your heated discussions that inevitably result in both your… dissatisfaction."

Annoyed beyond words at Touma's careful understatements, Eiri snapped to no one in particular, "Why is it that every time the brat gets depressed over something, everyone assumes it's _my_ fault?"

* * *

-- 

Instead of driving like a lunatic to NG to bash in Touma's skull, Eiri drove like a lunatic to NG to find his wayward lover.

He knew his lover's habits and subsequently was quite familiar with Mr K's rigorous insistence on certain things –like last song checks and final preparations. No matter what anyone said, Shuichi's job did bring him a semblance of habit and discipline. And it did affect their life together… or good and bad.

Thankfully, it gave him a pattern to follow.

Sure enough, the notification light for Studio Four lit a bright red. Ignoring it, Eiri kicked in the door and stalked in, patience barely restrained. Touma must have had the security on lookout because just as he bull-dozed his way past the recording technician and barrelled over a begging and weeping Sakano, Touma called from behind him,

"Eiri-san, I beg you not to make a scene."

"I am not making a scene," Eiri snapped over his shoulder before proceeding toward the glass door into the recording room. "I am here to collect my lover."

"Please, Eiri-san--"

In the threshold of the doorway, Eiri took in Hiro's defensive posture and Suguru's bored expression… and the fact that Mr K had drawn his gun. Ignoring them, Eiri's eyes sought and found the thin, pale face of his lover. They stared at each other rather blankly and Eiri realised that in the four weeks he hadn't seen Shuichi, the kid had lost a lot of weight; he was a mess. Hadn't they been feeding him?

"Shuichi," Eiri called sternly, catching how the boy flinched at his tone. He moderated his voice and said, "We're going home."

"Y-yes," Shuichi stumbled on the single syllable, worrying the writer. He moved to collect his bag but Hiro stood in his path, worried.

"You don't have to go with him, Shu," the guitarist said softly.

Eiri saw red. With fists clenched, he took a step in Hiro's direction but found Mr K in his way. Meeting the American's blue eyes, he ordered bluntly, eyes blazing, "Move."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Yuki-san," Mr K said jovially, hoisting his firearm toward the ceiling. "I think Shuichi should stay right here with us until this is all sorted out."

"What the fuck are you talking about, until this is sorted out?" Eiri snarled, "There is nothing to sort out. He is my lover, he is in Tokyo, and he is going home." He turned to find Shuichi had his bag on his shoulders, Hiro's hand on his arm whispering something to the singer. Shuichi looked determined, whispering right back. Snapping, Eiri demanded, "The fuck are you two muttering over there?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Hiro called sharply, releasing Shu's arm and stepping back. He told the singer softly, "Call me anytime and I'll come get you, okay?"

"I'm not going to call, Hiro," Shuichi insisted, just as softly. He rounded his best friend and started toward his lover.

Incensed that Shuichi might leave him, Eiri's temper began to unfold. When Shuichi reached his side, he growled, "What is wrong with them? What is wrong with you?"

"Can we talk about this later?" Shuichi asked, eyes pleading.

"Huh," Eiri scoffed, stepping away from K, "Let's go."

Out the door, through into the hall, with a final glare at Touma, and toward the elevator, Eiri maintained a close ear on the sound of Shuichi's following footsteps. At the elevators, he took Shuichi's bag and slung it over his own shoulder, his other arm circling the singer's shoulders to guide the kid with him into the lift. There, he tightened his arm around his lover and relished the feel of the kid snuggling into his side.

The hell were they all making noise about? Shuichi was supposed to be home, with him, not wasting time being kept up late and against his will when he had such a long day tomorrow. Shit, had they even fed him today?

"You hungry?" Eiri asked, watching the lights on the floor numbers count down to the lower parking level.

"Yea," Shu murmured into the writer's side, his warm breath seeping through the fabric. "It's been a long time since lunch."

"What do you want?"

"Beef," said the kid.

"I'll make something when we get home," Eiri said softly. The elevator gave a loud ping and the doors opened. Together, they strode toward Eiri's black Mercedes where the writer was sure to put Shuichi into the passenger side before crossing around and getting into the driver's seat.

The ride home was short. Home; where Shuichi belonged. And once there, they went straight for the kitchen. Eiri immediately washed his hands and began to prepare dinner. Shuichi sat in one of the stools, quietly contemplating the patch of sky visible in the window. In the silence, Eiri wondered what had gotten Shu to this state. He didn't like it and he didn't want things to stay this way.

Bluntly, he asked, "What happened?"

"They wouldn't let me talk to you," Shuichi said softly, miserably. "When you yelled at me that last time we spoke, I cried and they thought we fought." Shu flashed him a weary smile, "Well, technically, it was a fight but you know it wasn't like a real fight or anything. And they wouldn't believe me when I said it would be okay to call again the day after."

"Or the day after that, or the day after _that_," Eiri growled moodily, chopping up strips of beef for the stir-fry.

"Yea," Shuichi said softly. "I wanted to come home but they wouldn't let me either. I was surprised to see you there, actually. Seguchi-san said you were really busy."

Eiri flashed Shuichi a startled look, "The hell are you talking about? Touma told me you wanted to stay with them."

Shuichi looked startled himself, sitting up in the stool, "I didn't!"

"Well, I didn't know that," Eiri growled, venting his anger by chopping the vegetables with very quick strokes. Meddlesome bastards, he thought.

"Eiri, be careful," Shuichi begged. "You're angry and you're handling a knife."

Dumping the vegetables into the pan and giving it all a quick toss, the writer frowned darkly at the cooking food, contemplating the band and Touma's bizarre actions of late. He growled to himself about it, so absorbed in mentally dismembering them one by one that he almost started when two arms wrapped around him from behind, Shuichi's small form pressing against his back.

"I'm sorry," the moppet said, "I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Huh," Eiri huffed dismissively. But then he mentioned, "I have a spare phone in my office."

"Thanks," Shuichi nuzzled into his back, and Eiri wished he wasn't still wearing his blazer, "I hate not being able to talk to you, too."

Even after he shut the stove fire, the writer remained still, one hand over Shu's arm and just letting the singer hug his fill. It took a while but Shu soon realised Eiri was too still and that the food was done. He stepped away, giving the writer a soft appreciative smile before retaking his seat. Eiri served the meal, making sure his lover had enough to eat on his plate.

"Who do I kill?" Eiri asked, taking his own seat.

"No one," Shu said with a quick frown. "They didn't know."

"It's their fault," the writer insisted. "And someone still has your phone."

"Are you going to rescue my phone, Eiri?" prodded Shuichi playfully with a wink.

"I am going to punish the person who stood in our way," the writer grumbled.

"Ne, Eiri," Shuichi smiled lovingly, "I love you too."

"Huh," Eiri huffed, mortified to realise there was a rise in temperature in his cheeks.

Shu said nothing, picking up his chopsticks and resuming his meal. Eiri watched him from time to time, noticing how the colour seemed better on his face and that he seemed to exude the same cheery optimism he always had. The kid had brought back a brightness to the kitchen… to the damned entire house… that had been missing since he'd left to go on tour.

"I'll bring you home tomorrow," the writer decided, finishing his food. "I don't want to wait after your concert. Just pack up before your last set and get straight into the car when you leave the stage."

"Okay," Shuichi said. "But if either of us is caught, I don't know a thing," he sighed. "I wouldn't want to face Seguchi-san after you've had your 'talk' with your… victim."

"Now, how did you know I was going to have a 'talk' with someone?"

"Hmph," Shu snorted, "I saw you notice my phone was sticking out of his breast pocket."

"K is so dead," Eiri affirmed then he scowled as he collected their dishes and muttered sarcastically, "Nice to know I'll have your support."

Wide-eyed and innocent-looking, Shu nodded solemnly, "Anytime."

--


	11. Needing You

_Author Notes (er, Thanks):_

_**Scorch66: **Yes, more sticky stuff!  
**Kirayasha:** Here's another edition and I hope you enjoy this as well. It has a follow-up, too, which should present an opportunity for interesting results. I always wanted to send these two away on holiday.  
**RoxasIsReal13:** Well, laughter is the best medicine. And I always felt there was just as much humour in their relationship as stress and all the other BS they go through together. Hopefully, I'll find better ways to expose the humour in the future.  
**Supershu-chan**, thanks for that. I know what you mean. I'm just glad that I could make you like Touma.  
**lilrocker:** lol, I didn't think I could earn that title, but thanks for that.  
**Aryna.Tahashi: **Always! They belong together!  
**Rikke:** Of course! You probably get too stressed from Doubt; we all need a break once in a while.  
**Vindalootoo:** Thanks! I always love your input, you always seem to have a way of seeing what I really mean. Big Shu hugs to you too!!__  
Thanks also to: **Phantomsnow, Estelle, **and** EvelynnHill**_

_--_

_**Needing You  
**07 July 2007  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Who needs who?  
Warnings: Disgustingly sticky romantic fluff_

--

It had only been a few days ago that Shuichi had disappeared for a series of promotional appearances just after a recent Bad Luck tour. The new separation had grated on the writer's nerves, as it had been a little too soon after Shu had been away for two weeks for the tour.

He'd been especially cranky as those few days off for Shu had coincided with his own latest deadline. In his own way, Eiri wanted to make it up to the kid for how nasty he had been. He had a reason to feel as guilty as he did, especially after their screaming match last winter and the weeks of awkwardness that had followed.

And the boy had been disconcertingly quiet since he'd come home… so once again, Eiri found himself doing one of the few things he felt comfortable doing for Shuichi to show his… affection: Cooking

He chopped up slivers of beef, letting the oil and oyster sauce heat in the pan. He resisted the urge to peek out of the kitchen and catch a glimpse of his lover in the living room then turned to tackle the vegetables. He hated that his lover wasn't near him now, acutely aware this behaviour deviated from Shuichi's usual post-separation clinginess.

He swallowed the relief when Shuichi, as though summoned by the thoughts, slowly ambled in minutes later. With his usual emotional compassion and patience, the writer asked, "What's been bothering you?"

"I missed you, Eiri," Shuichi said on a sigh, flopping into his kitchen stool. He put his head down on the table, arms hanging limply at his sides instead of pillowing his head, limply lying there. He murmured, "I tried not to call like you asked and I didn't call. But it was really hard." He sighed, "And now it feels strange to see you again, like I'm detached."

"Idiot," Eiri said softly, tossing the meat into the pan to sizzle. He began to slice up the mushrooms and peppers with quick and efficient strokes… and tried very hard not to snap something the singer would not need to hear, like how he was being overdramatic.

"Yea," Shu murmured, unmoving. "I know."

"It was just a few days," Eiri pointed out, unable to control the slight resentment from his voice. "And anyway, you can't have missed me that much. I couldn't reach you when I tried to call you." He inwardly cringed when Shuichi propped his face up on his chin and levelled an accusing look at him.

"You told me not to call anymore, so I threw my phone away."

"What'd you do that for?" Eiri demanded with a sharp look, before turning back to the stove to dump the veggies into the pan and stir the medley. He flashed the singer a glare.

"You said not to call," Shu shrugged, looking sad, "and that was the only way I could think to--"

"Moron," Eiri interrupted. He took a moment to step up to Shuichi and tell him softly, "I don't want to hear news about you from other people."

"I was just trying to do what you wanted for once," Shu's eyes widened when he said, "I didn't like it so if you… you know… don't like it either then I…" He trailed off, expression turning miserable. Things would be back to square one if he had his phone.

"You missed me, didn't you?" Eiri said more than really asked, and he wasn't being smug about it. Shuichi always missed him, he knew that, and in a fit of temper he had tortured the poor kid by telling Shu he would break up with him if he called again. So apparently the singer had thrown his phone away and suffered in silence.

Shu bit his lip and looked away, hands clasping on the counter top, shaking.

"And I scared you when I said… what I did," Eiri finished. He huffed, annoyed with himself, and turned to shut the stove fire off. Behind him, he heard the scrape of the chair and Shuichi's slight form suddenly pressed against his back. He closed his hand over Shuichi's arms, the ones that had wrapped tightly around his waist, guilt pouring into him. Ducking his head, eyes slipping shut, he murmured, "I shouldn't have said that."

The arms tightened. "I didn't want to get in your way again. I can't tell when it's okay to talk, when I can't see you."

"I know," Eiri murmured, gently disengaging Shuichi's stranglehold on him so he could turn around. He needed to face what he had done. He didn't want the kid to ever hurt as badly as he'd done just the past winter… he never wanted that to happen again. Closing his arms around Shuichi, he bent and whispered into the kid's ear, "I'm sorry."

Shuichi resumed his stranglehold.

Bending, Eiri scooped the kid up into his arms, noticing how Shu hadn't gained back the weight he'd lost over the tour. Shuichi reacted instinctively to his closeness, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, head resting on his shoulder, and legs clasping around his waist. Leaving the food, he turned and marched out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the bedroom.

Despite his habit of making Shuichi writhe and scream and cry beneath him, when he wanted to apologise over yet another stupid situation he'd been responsible for, Eiri found he couldn't take that route this time. Heart-sore, he set Shuichi down on the bed, stripped them both down to their bare skin as usual… But this time simply pressed close and cradled his lover against his chest. He wrapped the kid up in his arms and held Shuichi, the quilt over them both, and it occurred to him they needed this; the time to cuddle.

After their recent fiasco with K taking Shuichi's phone away over the tour, the subsequent days they had been out of touch, and the past winter argument, Eiri felt the strain in their relationship. And he knew his little singer was feeling it too; Shuichi needed him. Internally, he admitted he didn't know how to do without his lover in his life anymore. Maybe they needed a vacation, he thought, some time together away from the things that made them cranky and unreasonable…

Tightening his hold, he didn't miss the fact his thoughts carried him down a path so far from his former growling about being fine just by himself.

"Vacation," Eiri mumbled.

"Hmm?" Shuichi sighed, snuggling again. Then the word seemed to hit him and he stilled before pulling away to look up at his lover's face, "Did you say 'vacation'?"

Nodding, Eiri pulled Shuichi back into his arms. "I was thinking we need to 'throw the cell phone away' on the rest of the world." Surprised, Shuichi said nothing. Knowing his lover had likely been shocked silent, he continued, "They can all rot, as far as I'm concerned. We don't need this shit, especially after that incident with K." And most especially after last winter.

Shuichi muttered, a tone of resentment lurking in his voice, "He just didn't know about us and how we work. But I do."

And you still threw your phone away, Eiri thought guiltily. He had truly frightened Shuichi, then. Softly, he breathed into Shu's hair, "I'm sorry."

Shu sighed, "I know."

A little embarrassed, Eiri pulled away from the instant forgiveness feeling rather… unworthy. He brushed at Shu's bangs, admiring the softness of his lover's hair over his fingertips and said, "We should get something to eat, you're too thin. And, luckily, I got another set of spare phones off Mizuki." He smirked a bit, "It seems, as you know, my phones magically disappear when a deadline approaches."

Shuichi giggled a little, "You go through phones quicker than I do!"

"Don't care," the writer mumbled. On a firmer tone, he said, "I want you to have a phone, if only so we can happily leave both our phones on the couch for K to find when he comes looking for you."

Shuichi's eyes widened and he blurted out, "You can't mean we're going to sneak away?"

"In the dead of night," Eiri affirmed, pulling gently away and reaching for his robe.

Shu pouted, calling after him, "That's just more revenge for the phone-takeaway incident."

"I am never going to forgive him," Eiri called over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.

When he returned with a tray of food, he set up the bed table and set everything out. To one side of the bed table, when Shuichi was ogling the food, he set the phone down and, with as little ceremony as possible, slipped a little package half underneath it then immediately turned away and got into bed.

"Phone!" Shuichi cried, then squealed, "Kumagurou!" He snatched up the plastic-encased paper card within which hung a Kumagurou phone charm. "This is the Rock-God edition, and it's not even released yet! Look at the little leather jacket and cap, it's so cute!" He suddenly demanded, "Where'd you get this?!"

"Touma," Eiri replied curtly, but secretly pleased with Shuichi's reaction. It was certainly well-worth suffering his insolent brother-in-law's knowing looks when he'd asked for the damn thing.

"Man, I wish I had the balls to ask Seguchi-san for stuff," Shuichi lamented, "I mean, I work in his company, isn't it good promotion to have your other stars sporting the goods earlier than everyone else? Seeing as how we get a lot of attention on our own anyway?" he sighed. Then, grinning his face in half, he ripped the packaging to shreds. When the pieces of his assault lay over the table, and some in his food, he triumphantly held up the charm and crowed, "I can put it on my new phone!"

Watching his lover fuss over a stupid charm, Eiri felt his guilt swell. Shuichi never asked for much, never asked him to spend any money on him. All the kid wanted was his time, his voice, his thoughts. Private things, unfortunately, what he most felt uncomfortable giving and yet which, as his lover, was most entitled to…

How something as simple as a damn charm made Shuichi grin so much and—oh, that smile was rather blinding—"Eat," Eiri reminded the brat, half-smiling himself, he would never understand it. It was just a damn charm. And at the same time, he knew ten more would never fetch the same result. He didn't get it. Watching his lover's glowing eyes, he thought, and not for the first time, how much easier things would be if the kid asked him for material things. At least then, he would know what to do.

_But I would never have been as happy_, he realised.

"Thank you, Eiri," Shu whispered. He leaned over, ignoring the terse reminder, and threw his arms around the writer. Pressing a kiss to the writer's cheek, he scrambled onto his knees before the bed table, paused to prod at his new charm, and picked up his chopsticks. With a wide and happy smile on his face, he half-yelled before tucking in, "Itadakimasu!"

Watching him, Eiri wondered when the kid would ever make any sense.

Probably never.

But who ever said that was a bad thing?

--

_Please feed(back) me!_


	12. No One But You

_**No One but You  
**__25__th__ July 2007 _

_**Fandom:**__ Gravitation  
__**Series:**__ Excerpts of Togetherness  
__**Rating**__: PG  
__**Summary**__: Shuichi loves Eiri, plain and simple.  
__**Warnings**__: Eiri-speak, puddles of Shuichi-goo and irreversible forces of gravity. smirk_

--

When Shuichi awoke, it was with his usual snap-awake habit, like the flipping of an 'On' switch.

Immediately, relaxed and calm from a long night of restful sleep, his head filled with sound: a rising orchestra of happy melodies and easy beats, climbing with mounting tension… but the noise calmed when he realised he lay wrapped up snugly in his lover's arms.

He paused to study the sleeping writer, eyes taking in the details and features he knew so well yet always seemed to fill his heart with such joy, he always thought he could never contain it; the resulting word fragments and endless swells of emotions finding an outlet only in composing his music. When he started to fidget, impatient and eager to start the day, he forced his habits to calm, knowing it would be best to let his lover sleep. Carefully, teeth grit lightly with his lips pulled sideways and eyes wide, expression in a childish tensely cautious face, he eased his way over to face Eiri.

Eiri. The writer lay on his side, chin angled downward on the pillow and sleeping on his side instead of on his belly as he usually did. His arms clung where they wrapped around Shuichi, one leg tossed over one of the singer's own under the sheets.

The sight of his lover took Shuichi's breath away, as usual. He would never get used to it, he knew, and he sighed, reminded of the need to simply get used to the fact Eiri had 'sexiness' embedded into the strands of his DNA. Sighing softly with dreamy appreciation, he touched lightly at the writer's hair, admiring the many different shades of gold and sunshine in the natural blonde locks.

The ache in his chest built up to a tightness he could no longer contain and he murmured softly, "I love you, Eiri."

When the arms about him tightened minutely, Shuichi suppressed the urge to squeal with happiness. It would never do wake Eiri and have the writer realise he had snuggled against him, and therefore make a concerted effort to not do it again.

Etching the image of his sleeping lover into memory, Shuichi slowly and regretfully wiggled out of Eiri's tenacious grip. With a happy bounce in his step, he made for the shower and complete his morning routine… including loading and running the coffee maker. He'd just poured a cup of coffee, black like Eiri liked, when he heard the shuffle of approaching footsteps.

"There you are," Eiri mumbled sleepily as he made for the kitchen bar table and sat in his usual stool. But all Shuichi heard was 'I woke, you were not there, and I wondered where you went'.

He suppressed most of his joy but a big grin slipping across his face which he couldn't help, and Shuichi set the steaming mug on the table before Eiri, snagged a breakfast bar then took the other chair. With a sleepy and less than sharp Eiri, times like this were to be savoured and, propping his chin up on his palm, elbow on the table, Shuichi sighed and engaged in his favourite morning spectator sport of 'watch the Eiri'.

Until Mr K came barging in just minutes later, thankfully taking the time to unlock the front door than simply kick the damn thing in. He yelled, accompanied by the click of a cocking firearm, "Good morning, Shuichi!"

"That fucker," Eiri growled.

"I'm coming!" Scurrying off his stool, Shuichi rushed to get himself and K out of the apartment before Eiri woke enough to lose his temper. "Bye, Eiri!" he called over his shoulder as he rushed out of the kitchen, "I love you! I'll see you tonight!"

Pushing at Mr K's lower back, Shuichi rushed his manager out, smiling when Eiri ambled out into the hallway to see him off. He had only enough time to sigh over this before remembering he needed to give his lover his space, and redoubled his efforts at preventing a confrontation.

He called, "Bye!"

"Hn," Eiri rumbled, hand lifting in what to any one else would have looked to be a half-hearted wave.

Shuichi grinned happily and slammed the door behind him in his rush. He skipped down the hallway ahead of his manager both to push the elevator button and to keep the pace going.

"I don't know what you see in him," K said bluntly.

"He had breakfast with me," Shuichi counted off, and yes, breakfast for Eiri meant coffee. "He said goodbye," a reply to a goodbye no matter what syllables they were, in Eiri-speak meant a reply, Shuichi knew without a doubt. Then he crowed, "And he even waved me off!"

"You're an idiot," K muttered, stepping into the elevator behind the singer.

"Hey!" Shuichi sparked, pouting.

--

When Shuichi stubbed his toe on Hiro's guitar stand, he pulled out his phone never mind his best friend was quite sympathetic.

"What?" came the terse greeting. The pain suddenly vanished.

"Hi Eiri!" Shuichi called, a sweeping wave of happiness overtaking him a moment that he had to close his eyes. "I stubbed my toe and I wanted to tell you, so I called but then when I heard your voice it was like magic because all the pain disappeared! I guess I don't have to tell you anymore, but I have and I just wanted to let you know that I love you so much!"

There came a soft sigh, then, "You're okay, then."

"Yeah," Shuichi sighed, the image of his sleeping lover from this morning popping into mind. Dreamily, but a little regretfully, he said, "Thank you. I'm sorry to bother you, I'll go now."

"Hn," Eiri said before the line clicked and went dead.

--

At half past noon, Shuichi pulled out his phone again.

"What?"

"It's lunch time!" Shuichi crowed, happy but worried at the same time. "Are you going out today?"

"No," Eiri curtly replied. There was a pause and exhale that signified he was smoking before he said, "I was working. You interrupted me again."

Stretching the word out, Shuichi said, "Sorry" then bubbled, "But I was worried about you because I only had a breakfast bar this morning and you had coffee, so when my tummy rumbled, I figured yours must have rumbled too. I'm hungry-- no, starving! And you need to eat too because sometimes you don't hear it when your tummy rumbles or you get annoyed without knowing why coz it's noisy. But really, you need to eat so you can take your ulcer medication."

"What do you take me for," the writer grumbled, "A four year old? Tch! I'll eat later, I'm busy."

"Eiri" Shuichi whined softly, trying not to achieve the pitch he wanted because he knew it would most annoy his lover. "I'm just worried about you."

"Ugh, you're such a brat," Eiri growled. "I was working. Now you've interrupted me yet again and for what? I'm hanging up now."

Brightly, Shuichi said, "Woah, you hardly ever tell me that coz usually you just hang up without-- hello?"

--

Suguru had stormed out in a huff. Hiro had gone after him to try and calm him down so they could get back to rehearsing their most recently completed song.

Doodling in his notebook, Shuichi scribbled into the margin, _the sunshine's in your eyes, you bring such light to my days… The feeling's too strong -this can't just be a phase. I was dead in this world of hate and lies; my life began the day I looked into your eyes…_

Sighing, Shu lay back on the floor, and checked his watch before pulling out his phone.

"What is it _now_?"

"I was calling to make sure you had lunch," Shuichi said brightly.

"What?" Eiri growled, "You called me about a half an hour ago--"

"Two hours ago," Shuichi corrected.

"The fuck?" Eiri mumbled, "Can't have been two hours ago…"

"You haven't eaten yet," Shuichi decided. He said cheerily, "Don't worry, Eiri, you're busy so I'll go now, okay?"

"Huh!" Eiri huffed, and the line went dead.

Shuichi dialled again, "Hello? Yo Sushi? I'd like to order delivery…"

--

"Hey Shuichi," Hiro smiled, "good work today."

"Thanks!" the singer jumped up to his feet and stretched, excited and energetic.

"Could have been better," came the grumbled from behind the keyboard.

"Man, I always wonder where you get your energy," Hiro moaned enviously as they gathered their things.

"Of course I'm energetic," Shuichi replied, "I'm going home to Eiri."

"I guess… that's a pretty good thing," Hiro said slowly, looking torn between gentle amusement and a grimace, and he said, "When you talk like that, I'm torn between wishing I had someone at home, and sympathy you have to go home to that grouch."

"He is _not_ a grouch…" Shuichi cowed a little, when both band mates each raised a single brow at him, and amended, "Well, he isn't _all_ of the time."

"Huh," Suguru huffed, and Hiro merely shook his head.

"Need a ride, Suguru?" Hiro asked, "K already said he'd be taking Shuichi home today."

"Sure, thanks."

"Are we going yet?" Shuichi pleaded, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yeah, yeah, brat," Hiro said, ruffling the singer's hair. "You go get the lift."

"Okay!" Shuichi called, skipping out into the hall.

--

"La li hoooooo!" Shuichi called, kicking off his shoes, barely able to contain his excitement at being home. "I'm home!"

"Shut up!" came the muffled call back from the study, the door partially opened, a strip of light striking across the hallway.

Shuichi giggled, for nothing but unadulterated delight at hearing his lover's voice live instead of over the phone. Eiri had such a nice baritone voice the guy could be a singer himself, Shu mused, ambling into the kitchen, his footfalls on the hardwood floor pounding out the rhythm of the song they'd been working on today. He dumped his back on the floor, juggling the bag handles of take-away dinner.

"Oops," he muttered, when he dropped one of the boxes, the drip of sauce down the container side making him lose his grip. But the plastic container was sealed well and even striking the floor, the contents remained contained. Shu breathed with relief, "Lucky…"

Humming, he dragged the kitchen stool over to where Eiri kept the plates, his lover's words ringing in his head as always: _I don't care if you can reach the plates on the shelf. You stand on your toes to reach them and if you drop my plates, you'll probably step on a shard and whine about how much it fucking hurts for weeks on end. Use the damn step-ladder._

He giggled, reminded of the many ways Eiri could be so loving, the ways the writer worried about him. Sure enough, as he took the first step on the little ladder, his socked foot nearly slipped over the rung but he caught his balance quickly before stepping up the rest of the way. Carefully, he opened the cabinet door and handed the plates down to the counter before shutting the cabinet door and hopping down off the step-ladder.

… only for his feet, yes his socked feet, to slip right out from under him.

The crash brought Eiri to the kitchen doorway, a mixture of worry, annoyance and fear in the writer's eyes. Grinning with embarrassment, Shuichi rubbed at his shoulder.

"Sorry, Eiri," he said, "I slipped."

Catching sight of the step-ladder, Eiri started forward, asking, "Did you fall off that?"

"Um," Oh, he was going to be in trouble… "Yes."

"You idiot!" Eiri snapped, bending into a crouch before him, "Can't you be more careful? You wreak havoc wherever you go! Must the simple job of getting plates entail risking your neck? I can't believe this…"

Shuichi pouted, rubbing at his aches before attempting to stand, a hand suddenly in his when he reached up to find a hold. On his feet he puttered over to the containers on the counter to serve up dinner, thankful that at least his accident had brought his lover to dinner, and served the food onto the plates he'd fetched. Hands snaked out from each side and took the serving spoons from his hands before gently turning him around. Looking up into Eiri's eyes, his misery at disappointing his lover eased when the writer asked,

"Are you alright?"

"I'm hungry," he said, a soft smile sprouting out of no where. "And not even falling off a step-ladder is going to take away time to have dinner with you!"

Eiri sighed, his eyes softening, hands easing their grip. A fond warmth tainted the sharpness of his words when he accused the singer, "You'll be the death of me."

Eyes widening, Shuichi gasped, "Don't say things like that!" He reached behind him to touch the wood of the cabinet door at his back before glowering up at Eiri, "That's not the least bit funny!"

Rolling his eyes, Eiri moved away to the table, muttering, "Superstitious nonsense."

Confidence and cheer restored, Shuichi dished up dinner and chattered about his day, heart warming just a bit more each time Eiri gave an acknowledging 'Hn' in just the right places.

"Eiri," Shuichi stage whispered, "Are we still sneaking away tomorrow?"

"Not if you keep bothering me," Eiri grumbled, tucking in.

Shuichi heard, _'I'm trying to catch up to my deadline so I don't have to work on holiday,_ and he suppressed a squeal at the thought of having his lover all to himself for a full week. Dreamily, he ate his dinner, looking up only when Eiri finally nudged him and asked him why he was suddenly so quiet. He sighed happily,

"We're going on vacation, Eiri, how can I not be happy?" He slurped his miso soup a bit, smiling at the small shake of Eiri's head at the noise and added, "I just need a moment to absorb the thoughts…" He grinned, "You and me for a whole week! I can't wait!"

"Keep it down, brat," the writer admonished. He growled sarcastically, "Yeah, yahoo, a full week with the idiot underfoot."

"Mou" Shuichi whined, despite knowing what his lover truly meant. He perked up, playfully wiggling his eye brows, and argued, "I'm betting it's not just your foot I'll be under!" A hungry, anticipative look flashed across Eiri's eyes at that and Shu swallowed a crow of triumph. He sat back, averting his eyes and casually continued, "I have no idea how you can complain really…"

"Hn," Eiri grunted, but he shifted ever so slightly in his seat and Shuichi grinned down at his plate. "What's so funny?"

"I'm excited," Shuichi rolled his eyes, smirking, "You know, you and me, together… exclusive beach house and private strip of beach… _under_ the sun, half naked and the waves _lapping_ at our feet. It'll be cold and hot all at the same time…" he shivered delicately, his imagination and double-meanings running away with him. His voice slid down a pitch and he reached with his foot to caress Eiri's calf, eyes lifting to solemnly say, "I can't wait."

Eiri didn't reply.

Dropping his chopsticks, he shoved his plate away and marched out of the kitchen to his study, grumbling the entire way. To anyone else, it might have seemed he had lost his patience, but Shuichi knew: _Rushing away to his office to finish his work and meet the deadline, in time to leave when they planned; intending to enjoy this vacation fully…_

Shuichi smiled to himself as he stood to clear the table. Into the empty room he murmured, "I love you, Eiri. No one but you."

--


	13. Bullhead

_**Bullhead  
**__19__th__ August 2007 _

_Fandom: Gravitation  
__Series: Excerpts of Togetherness  
__Rating: R / NC-17  
__Summary: It's a fine line between love and hate.  
__Warnings: Angry Shuichi, angry Eiri (duh), resulting mutual potty-mouths, and… um… the interesting ways this couple likes to kiss and make up._

_

* * *

_

"Wake up," Eiri prodded the sleeping singer. Darkness still hung over the world in the wee hours of the morning, and despite the morning chill the air remained humid and summer-sticky. Eager to get going, the writer nudged his lover a little more forcefully. "Wake. _Up._"

"Hn?" murmured Shu, stirring, rolling over onto his back to blearily peer through half-shut eyelids. "Wha..?"

"Wake up, idiot, we're leaving." Eiri turned away, a little bothered with how little Shuichi had managed to sleep the night before, having returned home much later than usual.

"Eiri?" Shuichi sleepily called, sounding more than a little confused.

Over his shoulder, he smirked and carefully enunciated, "Vacation."

Shuichi started, blinking rapidly and his eyes cleared. Still sleep slurred, he managed, "I'm up, I'm up!" and with a soft moan, he sat up and scrubbed one hand over his eyes, the other rubbing at his tummy.

Eiri eyed that bare stomach and consoled himself: _Soon._ Fondly, he muttered, "Moron."

Shuichi ambled into the bathroom but moments later returned as Eiri was making the bed, and asked, "Have you seen my toothbrush?"

"We discussed this already, idiot," Eiri replied. "I packed the usual bathroom stuff last night, just use a spare. Why are you so distracted?"

"I think I lost the spare anyway. Really tired…" Shu broke off and gave a huge yawn. "Bad Luck has so much work to do," he said, turning for his duffle bag and rooting for his toothbrush. "And I wanted to hurry and get things done coz I knew we were going to leave but everyone looked at me funny and they were getting suspicious so—"

"Hurry up," Eiri interrupted, annoyed with how sluggishly the kid moved. "Get dressed, put your shoes on. Gods, can't you move it?" Shuichi stopped in his tracks and gave him a sleepy glare. "Are you changing your mind about going?"

"No!" Shu rolled his eyes. "I'm just worried that everyone's going to be upset when they find out we've gone and then I'm going to get it when we come back."

"I'll call Touma once we're away," he said dismissively. His eyes narrowed when Shu sighed and didn't move. He demanded, "Do you want to stay behind? Why the hell aren't you bouncing off the walls, you've excited about this for weeks?"

"Eiri—"

"Shut up!" he snapped, suddenly annoyed and a little upset they might be staying put. "I planned this whole thing; this is supposed to be our time. _Ours!_" he hissed. He made his decision then and there, "Frankly, I don't give a fuck when or if your next album comes out. I don't care if you're on schedule or not, I am fucking going on vacation whether you come with me or not."

"Bastard!" Shuichi yelled back, waving his toothbrush at the writer. "I want to go, I'm just saying that we each have responsibilities here—"

"You're a fine one to talk about responsibilities…"

"Don't you get started on me, Eiri," the singer glowered, eyes dark with real annoyance. "I do my job, I _love_ my job! It's not even really a job to me --it's living my damn dream. Can you understand that? That's why this is so important to me!"

Resentful, Eiri spitefully sparred, "You said I was important to you."

"You _are_ important to me, you always are," Shuichi threw his hands up with exasperation. "You know that, Eiri."

"Then why are you staying?"

"I didn't say I was!"

"You're here aren't you," Eiri pointed at Shu's feet. "You're not walking out into the hallway to put on your shoes!"

"Argh!" Shuichi hurled his toothbrush back into his bag, zipped it and hefted it up onto his shoulder. He made for the door as he loudly and sarcastically declared, "See? I'm going."

Frustrated, Eiri followed after Shu down the hall and aggressively said, "Don't go on the fucking vacation if you're just going to sulk about it."

"I am not sulking! You are!" Shuichi argued, not even looking at his lover as he tossed the bag down and bent to put on his shoes. "You're complaining and bitching about my lack of enthusiasm and I was just explaining why."

"The hell do I need to know why, I don't care about why," Eiri growled, stopping to slip on his own shoes before snatching up his own bag already set by the door.

"Well thanks for caring!" Shu shot, jumping to his feet.

"I kept my end of the deal," the writer enunciated, "I even fucking finished my manuscript ahead of schedule so I don't have to take my laptop."

"Ugh! Rub it in my face," Shu moaned. He hefted up his back pack and looked away, waiting for Eiri to open the door and, as the writer usually did, lead the way out of the house.

Not wanting to push the situation to its worst potential, Eiri swallowed the retort upon his lips. The singer still wore the shorts and t-shirt he had donned for bed and Eiri swallowed the urge to yell for the kid to go change. They were leaving as they were supposed to and it would be best to just get this going and move past this.

Fishing out his mobile, Eiri tossed the device into the hall table bowl. He held out a hand to Shu, "Give me your phone."

"I can't leave it, Eiri."

He froze. "What the—" His anger returned full force and he hissed, "You. Have got. To be kidding me."

Shifting from one foot to the other and not meeting Eiri's eyes, Shuichi said, "I need to bring my phone."

"No you don't!"

"I just enumerated the reasons why I can't leave it," the singer argued. He rolled his eyes at his lover, "Remember? The reasons you don't care about? Forget it, Eiri, I am bringing it!"

"Then this isn't a fucking vacation, is it?" Eiri dropped his bag on the floor, stepped menacingly closer to Shuichi and hovered over the little brat. But Shu didn't back down one bit. "What the hell are we even leaving for?"

"Bring your damn laptop then if you want get snippy about it," Shuichi yelled up at him, hands balled into little fists, eyes snapping amethyst sparks. "But I am taking my phone with me!"

They glowered at each other for a long moment before Eiri snapped, "Fine!"

"Fine!" Shu snarled back.

Banging and noisily they huffed their way out, down the elevators and to the car, glowering but never meeting eyes. And all through the drive to the train station, checking in and boarding their private cabin, and even when the Shinkansen had taken them an hour clear out of Tokyo, they spoke not a word to each other.

--

Tired and worried, Shuichi held his tongue.

Picking fights and squabbling had become too much of a habit for him, really. Sure, he didn't really mind so much whenever Eiri poked jabs at him, but this was insulting his work-ethic one too many times. For the month, at least. With an internal roll of his eyes he wondered if his lover had some sort of a quota for pissing him off.

Despite the comfort of their exclusive quarters, he hadn't been able to fall sleep. They would be changing trains in Atami anyway so it shouldn't matter… but he was exhausted.

Looking out the window at the passing scenery, he brushed over the plans Eiri had made for them:

It would be a two and a half hour journey by train out to the Pacific Ocean and their accommodation at the Shimoda View Hotel(1), an exquisite ryokan hotel with high security and a private beach. A section of that private beach was to be blocked off for their own private use, and besides that Eiri had spent a bloody fortune booking out as many of the vacant hotel rooms as the management would allow in order to ensure as much privacy as possible.

He'd visited the link his lover had emailed him and… the photographs had been breathtaking. He had been so excited when Eiri really had gone and booked the entire trip himself and so quickly. It spoke volumes to him… and still did.

Glancing over at the tense writer on the opposite seat, Shuichi took in his lover's posture and saw, despite the fierce glower, a sullen posture and pained expression. Eiri obviously wasn't happy at all with their current mood but, as usual, had no intention of making any overture to fix it. That sort of effort the writer saved for real trouble, and Shu couldn't help but be irritated by that very habit. As a result, never mind patching this matter up sat entirely in his hands, he wasn't ready to back down and apologise.

Not yet.

At Atari, they changed for the Izukyu train line. As they stepped off the platform and down the stairs, the jostling in the crowd upset Shu's distracted balance. Behind him, Eiri quickly grabbed him close, his back coming to rest on the writer's front, bag dropping off his shoulder and onto the floor. The feel of his lover's arm around him, warm and enticing, made him want to pause and stay there a lingering moment longer. But no doubt the writer would snap something annoying like, 'get a move on already'. So, not wanting to hear it and gritting his teeth, he forced himself forward, bending to snatch up his bag and keep moving.

But was it his imagination or did Eiri's hand remain on his hip as he began to walk away? Probably not when, a few steps along, the writer moved closer and set a protective hand on his lower back as they walked. And when they disembarked at Shimoda train station and chose a taxi, Eiri took his bag from him and made for the boot.

Shuichi stood and gawked. And when Eiri turned back to get into the car to find him staring, he merely stared back instead of spouting off another aggressive line like, 'what are you standing around like an idiot for?'

Startled, the singer realised he'd been wrong… and more than half his ire suddenly slipped away. A little ashamed of his earlier unfair judgements and prejudices, he meekly got into the car and obediently moved closer when Eiri pulled him near.

The taxi ride was painfully short. After two weeks of almost no indulgence in romantics as they both struggled to get ahead of schedule, he hungered for his lover's touch. Even the simple act of leaning against Eiri and absorbing his warmth loosed the dam of desire he'd held in check.

Three hours since they'd left home, at half past eight in the morning, Shuichi pulled reluctantly away and opened the cab door. They checked in early and were escorted to their suite. Dumping his bag on a rack by the closet, Shu looked up as he was about to turn away… and caught, in the mirror, his lover's gaze upon him.

His breath hitched, and he turned around.

Tears pricked at his eyes and he whispered, "I'm sorry."

His eyes widened when he realised he was not the only one to have spoken. Extremely proud of his lover and giddy with sudden joy, Shu launched himself forward. Long and clinging arms wrapped tightly around him, his lover's tall frame curved over his own and cradled his weight, large and comforting hands buried in his hair and a chin pressed along his temple, a soft voice whispering,

"We did it."

In more ways than one, Shu thought, tightening his hold. He didn't say anything, the music in his head smoothing out into an echoing and resonant chord. The sounds, as though conducted by his lover himself, seemed to thrum over his skin when Eiri's touch turned exploratory.

With a soft moan, head dropping back, a whisper of notes sighed distantly as Eiri bent and gathered him yet closer, warm lips closing over his own. The crashing weight of desire shook him as it made its path down to his belly, and he gasped in a breath between one kiss and the next. The heat of Eiri's touch slid, caressed and tightened, orchestrating a symphony of pianissimo(2) notes, pushing his passion higher and drove his hunger to burn hotter.

Eiri pulled away but slightly and Shu groaned, tightening his hold against the rush of cool air between them. Not wanting his lover to move away, he lifted heavy eyelids and locked eyes with his lover… who gave a soft moan and dove back for his lips. He followed Eiri's lead, letting himself be walked backward. Anticipating a backward fall upon the bed, he immediately set to unfastening buttons and undoing zippers.

He half succeeded. For when he tumbled backward, Eiri catching his weight with his elbows, hips pressing heavily against his own, he found they had both worked themselves into a haphazard tangle of semi-loosened clothing.

Eiri growled at having to sit up to get his shirt off and attend to his trousers, and Shuichi smiled as he tore off his own. They watched each other hurriedly undress, the silliness of their mad coming-together striking at the same time, causing Shu to giggle and the corner of Eiri's lips to hitch up in a half smile.

Shu's giggled faded when, beating him to undress, Eiri lunged and pressed him backward, mouth capturing his. His lover's weight sank him into the soft bedclothes and against his thigh pressed a throbbing arousal.

With an arch of his back, Shuichi moaned, "Please…"

Eiri pulled up a bit, hand stroking back his bangs, and Shu worked to clear his mind a little at the sight of the rare warm expression in his lover's eyes. The writer murmured back, "Please."

There was no mocking tone in his voice, no childish intent to mimic the words teasingly, only a heavy and meaningful tone… and Shuichi reached up to frame his lover's face with his hands, "Always. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising to me," Eiri grimaced, "I hate it when you apologise to me." But Shu could say no more because his lover had bent again, and the kiss swept all thoughts from his mind.

Some long moments later there was a cold and bewildered daze when Eiri, with a rough sound, forced himself away and off the bed. When he returned, Shuichi curled up a bit to let Eiri slide his knees beneath his own, hips lowering to prop up on the writer's thighs. Eiri managed to work the cap off the lube and slick his fingers, tossed the bottle away and focused attention back on him… and he flung out his arms to each side, clutching at the sheets and arched off the bed.

Dizzying, tense and shaking moments later, Eiri pressed forward and sank with excruciating slowness into him. Shuichi sobbed and moaned, lifting heavy legs against the pain to wrap them around his lover, arms lifting to clench at his lover's back. Eiri bent as he sank further, elbows coming to rest at each side, hands cradling and mouth seeking.

"Eiri!"

And the rhythm began, conducting a wave of crashing sound in Shuichi's head and heart, a loving melody he wished he could share with his lover. He cried out when, approaching the crescendo, Eiri's movements turned harsher and more demanding –a mark of his loss of control.

When the sounds, sensations, and emotions suddenly contracted, Shu gave a shout, before everything exploded into stars and quiet. Simultaneously Eiri's hold tightened, and he gave a sustained and passionate groan, "Shu!"

Slumped in each other's arms, they panted against the other's skin, Shuichi refusing to unwrap himself from around his lover's body. Post-coital bliss made Eiri soft in all the right ways, evident in the way the writer angled himself over onto his shoulder to take a little more of his weight off of Shuichi. One of his hands cupped Shu's cheek, eyes a warm scotch and filled with a tenderness that haunted the singer's daydreams.

Eiri flicked at Shu's nose with a forefinger, gave a small smile and teased, "Stubborn brat."

Shuichi smiled softly, tightened his hold, and accused, "Bullhead."

* * *

--

_Author notes:_

_(1) If you remove the spaces, go see their hotel at: japaneseguesthouses . com /db /shizuoka /shimodaview . htm  
(2) "Pianissimo" musically means "very soft" and is played as lightly as possible, a ghostly echo_

_For those who do review, those few (or not so few) words you leave me of what you like about these stories and how the writing strikes you, are really important to me. Thank you. I may not always thank you individually but I am so glad you took the time to tell me what you think._

_And for those who like to add my stories to their favourites or story alerts, I'm so glad you do. I hope to hear your own opinions someday soon on why you did and if or how you like what I write._

_For those of you who email or review to tell me to update… you don't review anyway, so you can't boss me around! (smirk)_

--


	14. Same Page

_**Same Page  
**__31 January 2008_

_**Fandom**__: Gravitation  
__**Series**__: Excerpts of Togetherness  
__**Rating**__: PG  
__**Summary**__: Seeing eye to eye is never easy, in real life or in fiction.  
__**Warnings**__: Eiri's potty mouth, as usual. And mine.  
_

* * *

Eiri stubbed out his cigarette and glared at the still cheerfully blinking cursor.

The page was blank. Fucking _blank!_ He had better not have writer's block because, damn it, he was on a schedule and he had kept it, but if he couldn't write for the rest of the week then he wouldn't be able to make it to Shuichi's concert and show up that little _brat_…

But the characters in his head remained stubbornly at odds. It wasn't that they weren't talking to each other; this was already the end of the book, it was that pivotal moment where the characters explained themselves and they finally understood they could be together… and Eiri was just trying to get them into the same room to talk--

Although, the idea of killing them both off at this point was beginning to tempt him…

No, no; he shook his head. Not a good idea. He had promised a happy ending and he would damn well write it. Not that his promise to his editor was of any importance, it was that little _brat_ who had managed to get him to promise and he really would wring that idiot's neck except that when he'd made the damn promise, there had been _witnesses_.

But the characters were just not cooperating.

For some stupid reason, his leading lady refused to give in to her man. Oh, Eiri knew what he wanted to happen; she just needed to express her weakness and need of her lover, but the stubborn bitch had fought tooth and nail to get to where she was now and in Eiri's head, she would not say the words he needed her to speak. Then on top of that, for some reason, his lead male seemed wary of this meeting –as though second guessing his lover. After everything he had admitted to her, indirectly or no, he needed her to be as tough as she had proved herself. Eiri wanted her to submit, but it seemed his leading man did not…

And so all he had after hours upon hours of planning and fighting, there was still a fucking blank page.

He sat back, lighting up another cigarette. Blowing out the lungful, he considered his dilemma. This was another one of those weird real-life-to-fiction parallel situations again, he mused. Because just as the two idiots in his head couldn't seem to see eye to eye, so had he and Shuichi been arguing. Stupid concert coming up, special appearance and all that, and they had been arguing about it all day.

Well, since this morning.

Frustrated, Eiri sucked harder on his cigarette. Crap! It wasn't even that he didn't want to go to the concert, it was that _Shuichi_ has asked him not to go.

Bloody confusing _punk_, after all the arguments and begging and pleading to go to the damn concerts. This time he offered to go to this one without prompting and the brat fucking tells him _not to go_?

His stomach did that odd flip again.

He had been missing a lot of his lover's concerts lately, busy with his book and being so close to finishing it. No matter what anyone said, it was getting the climax right and closing the book cleanly and well that mattered most sometimes. After all, no one read a book to get to the middle…

And he had neglected Shuichi. He knew that. It was why he hadn't even waited for his lover to ask, he had taken the initiative and told his lover he would be there.

There had been no squeals and no joy. There had been a flash of some unfamiliar emotion in Shuichi's beautiful eyes before he looked away. And sadness in his attempt at a reassuring smile. And a hasty escape, a flimsy excuse… It made Eiri ill.

The brat had found someone else, hadn't he? He'd neglected his boy for too many months as he'd planned this stupid book, distanced himself too much as he plotted the timeline and cleaned up the story. He'd wanted it to be good; a movie producer had mentioned an interest in his newest project.

But that all meant nothing. Not now, if it meant he was losing his lover.

"Bullshit!" he cursed, slamming the stub of his smoke down into the ashtray. He snatched up his office private line and hit the speed dial. It took more than the usual number of rings before Shuichi answered, and he sounded so _hesitant…_ "Why the fuck can't I go to your damn concert?!" he demanded. "I did as you fucking asked, I've even taken the bloody initiative and made plans so why the hell are you telling me not to go?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and Eiri listened wretchedly for the hushed whispers and quiet movement. But there was none.

"Eiri," Shuichi sighed. "Can we talk about this later when I get home? I don't want to say this over the phone."

He saw red. "_What_ the bloody hell is so damn fragile that you can't answer me when I fucking ask you a question?!" He shot to his feet and began pacing his office, distantly thankful for the cordless handset. "I want to know what the blazes is going on and I want you to tell me right fucking now!"

"This isn't just about you, you know," Shuichi replied irritably. "I have my own feelings on the matter and I am trying to do what is best for us both by--"

"I don't fucking need you making decisions for me!" Eiri snapped.

Shuichi retorted, "And I don't fucking cater to your every whim!"

"Why the fuck won't you tell me what it is you've done," Eiri raged, "so we can just get this over with?"

"And why is it that you assume it's something _I've_ done?!" Shuichi demanded. "Not everything that goes wrong can be laid at my feet, you know!"

"Oh, go ahead and make this _my_ fault," Eiri rolled his eyes. "Go on, then."

"This is so not anyone's fault!" Shuichi said with aggravation in his voice. "This is just a situation that needs explaining out and we can get over it soon enough. I just need you to be patient until I can get home and explain."

"You're leaving me aren't you?" Eiri sighed.

"What?!" Shuichi squawked. "That's not--"

"Then why can't you just tell me?"

"I said that I would," Shuichi argued. "I also said--"

"Oh, shut up." Eiri slammed the phone down.

But instead of his phone ringing back right away, Shuichi calling back to apologise and reassure and beg, the phone remained silent. Eiri impatiently smoked through two more cigarettes before it hit him that Shuichi wasn't going to call him back.

Annoyed, stomach aching now, he stormed out of his office and down the hall to the kitchen. As he passed the living room, the main house phone gave one short ring before going straight to the answering machine –as Eiri often set it when he was trying to get some work done. He froze in his tracks, wondering what he had done to deserve to have his lover break up with him over the damn answering machine…

"I don't want to hear you shout at me," Shuichi said without even saying 'hello'. Ah, so that's why, was it? "I want you to listen and listen well, since you want to hear it so badly." He sighed. "I didn't want you to come to the stupid concert because I just found out yesterday that K has been scalping off the backstage passes at twice the price, promising that you would be there and there would be kissing or groping or some kind of action between us that they can witness." There was a scowl in his voice as he continued, "Do you have any idea how much is pisses me off that we're being turned into a spectator show? This whole thing--"

But Eiri had marched over and snatched up the phone and finished, "Is a bloody freak show."

"Precisely." Shuichi sighed again, and Eiri noticed now that his voice had a strange echo to it.

"Are you in a… janitor's closet?"

Shu chuckled. "Yea. Only place I know I can hide from my crazy manager and tell you I love you and I'm not leaving you—God, where did you even get that notion?"

"Your Stupid must be getting contagious."

"_So_ not funny, Eiri," Shuichi complained. But there was a smile in his voice now, a silent acceptance of his lover's equally subtle if rather rude apology.

"You really shouldn't be making decisions like that for me," Eiri scolded. "What the hell kind of relationship leader am I if you're working this hard, denying yourself, to take care of _me?_"

There was another long pause; a note of surprise in it. Sounding baffled, Shuichi said, "Why in the world would you think I shouldn't protect you?"

"Because I'm the one who's supposed to be leading this," Eiri replied without thinking, his voice rough. "I should be able to--"

"Shut up and listen for a minute," Shuichi ordered softly and Eiri huffed before falling silent. "You don't lead this relationship. Don't you understand? We walk hand in hand in this. It's you and me." He laughed softly. "We take care of each other, even if it means second guesses and doubting one another, we'll take care of each other and we'll make up and it'll always be okay." He sighed, his voice lowering a little, "But we'll always be You and Me. You know. Us."

"It's Us."

"Yeah," Shuichi said cheerfully, "Us."

"You sound like a Hallmark card."

"I love you too, Eiri."

"Hn."

"Talk to you later, okay?" Shuichi chortled, "We can 'make up' in the usual way."

"Later." As Eiri put the phone down, all thought of medication fled him.

Suddenly, there was that parallel thing again. The characters in his head were coming together, looking each other over, uncertain about what needed to be said but they were there and willing… the doubt hung heavy between them and the tension made the air thick… but they were sure this was what they wanted…

He dashed for his laptop and the words slipped easily from his mind and through his fingers, words filling the screen quickly. Damn parallel; just as he and Shuichi had understood each other, so too had his characters begun to take steps to come together.

Honestly...

Why couldn't they lead their own lives?

--


	15. Domesticity

_**Domesticity  
**__7__th__ May 2008  
__**Series:**__ Excerpts of Togetherness  
__**Summary:**__ Shuichi wants to learn how to do something for Eiri, just the way his lover wants it. Time spent together is always bliss, and this is just the trick.  
__**Warnings:**__ Silliness, kisses and sticky sweet fluff. Very plain, very normal… it's the subtle points you need to look out for._

_For Addisongrey, RoxasIsReal13, scorch66 and patpat. Looking back on your reviews gave birth to this fic._

* * *

"Just one," Eiri said.

"Are you sure?" Shuichi asked sceptically. "It's a big pot of water."

"One, I said, since I'm sure I know what I'm doing," Eiri replied testily, shaking the salt jar at him. "You've been eating my food for the past six years so you should know that by now."

"Okay, okay," the singer murmured, spooning a single teaspoon full of salt into the pot of water on the stove. He whispered a recap to himself, "One teaspoon each of olive oil and salt."

With a roll of his eyes as he put the salt away, Eiri muttered, "And to think I credited you with intelligence for coming to me to teach you…"

"Eiriiii," Shuichi moaned, covering the pot, hopping off the kitchen stool, and giving his cranky boyfriend a quick hug. "I'm sorry! It just didn't seem like you could taste just a teaspoon full when you're only going to cook the pasta in it." He went to pull out the colander.

"You don't taste it, moron," the writer told him, pushing the stepping chair closer to the stove and bit further out of the way where the kid wouldn't trip on it or something. "It's more to soften the water."

"But water's not _hard_," Shuichi murmured quietly to himself as he set the colander down on the counter.

"For the love of God," Eiri rolled his eyes as he pulled out the Tupperware of spaghetti. "You _know_ what I'm talking about."

"I do know," Shuichi shrugged, accepting the pasta container. "But it's just weird the way they say hard and soft water. Couldn't they have chosen another way to say it?"

"I don't care," Eiri snorted. "As long as it's the accepted terminology--"

"Who decides those things anyway?"

"I am _not_ going to answer that."

"I can tell you what I consider _hard…_" Shuichi grinned.

"Your mind is perpetually focused on either music or getting under my clothes, isn't it?"

Whining, "Don't you think about getting under _my_ clothes?"

The writer scowled and nudged him, pointing at the clever Tupperware that had measure holes to select how much you wanted to cook. With a last salacious wink at his boyfriend, Shuichi carefully poured out an amount for two and set that aside as Eiri fished some fish and vegetables from the fridge.

"This first," the writer said as he pointed, "then this, this, then that."

"These vegetables are all cut already…" Shuichi sounded quite disappointed as he stripped back the packaging.

"I don't want you handling anything sharp," Eiri told him. "Better the prepared selection so you can get things done quicker anyway." He snorted, "And it means I can get back to my work sooner."

Shuichi shot him a quick pout for that. Soon, the water boiled and Eiri let the singer stand the spaghetti strands in the middle of the pot, releasing them to fan out naturally.

"It's pretty!" Shuichi said. "But only if you view it from high up. You probably have a much better view than me."

"Don't lean too far over," the writer replied instead, hand at the singer's hip to keep him in place from trying anything. "You might slip on the stool or steam your face over the water." He set a wok on the stove and turned on the heat.

Shuichi carefully ladled in some butter and a dashed a bit of oil. He giggled at the dashing motion Eiri had taught him before hand, though unable to replicate the graceful slide of wrist which the writer had demonstrated.

"Spring onions?" Eiri asked.

"Check!" Shuichi tossed the sprigs in and gave them a swirl with the spatula, coating them in butter and oil.

"Carrots?"

"Check!" The singer shook the box empty, dropping it thoughtlessly onto the counter.

"Mix it all up well so the corn gets covered as well," the writer said patiently. He paused then added, "I don't want to have to do this again."

"Okay!" Shuichi agreed, but stuck his lower lip out a moment for that last sentence. He leaned over, one hand grasping the wooden handle of the wok and the other carefully turning the vegetables over as instructed.

"Zucchini?"

"Check!" Shuichi set the spatula down and reached for the box of zucchini just a bit further down the counter, other hand still on the wok. Eiri automatically stepped forward, an arm around his lover's waist to hold him steady as the singer leaned a little further than he really ought.

"Mix," the writer reminded, adding a pinch of chopped ginger. Shuichi tossed the new vegetables in and again turned it all over to coat them well, Eiri taking the empty paper containers to chuck in the out-of-reach bin. "Good. Hm. You _can_ actually follow instructions. I'm amazed."

"Following your instructions is easy coz you're so handsome there's no way I can focus my attention anywhere else except to do as you say," Shuichi told his lover, ignoring the jab and covering the wok. "It's fun to learn from you."

"Huh," Eiri muttered, shaking his head a little. He handed Shuichi a padded pot-holder and the singer reached to uncover then stir the cooking pasta. Shuichi hopped off the stool and bent to turn down the heat.

"Over there," Eiri pointed at the correct setting.

"Done," Shuichi said, straightening. "The rest?" He pulled up the foil of tomatoes, pre skinned and chopped.

"Open it up," Eiri instructed then handed over the pepper mill. "Just a few twists… good… now add another dash of olive oil—stop giggling, for goodness' sake, it's a _dash_."

"But it's _funny_," Shuichi protested. He capped the oil and gave it his exaggerated rendition of his lover's fancy 'dashing' wave, smiling, "Dashing… but I can't do it the way you do it, waving it up so high. I'd miss the pan."

"Hn," Eiri acknowledged then instructed, "Bring that over here." He moved toward and indicated the wok so Shuichi carried over the seasoned tomatoes, got up onto his stepping stool, accepted the pot holder and uncovered the vegetables. The singer poured in the latest component, mixed them in and covered it again, glancing up at Eiri to check he'd done it correctly. "Good. Now the pasta."

Humming to himself, Shuichi reached then uncovered and stirred the pasta. "Is that cooked yet? It's getting all thick and swollen."

"Must you _talk _like that?" Eiri muttered, making the singer laugh, bending over the pot. "Let's see." He handed his lover a set of chopsticks and Shuichi nimbly selected a strand. "Toss it on the wall."

"Huh?" the singer boggled.

"Sling it onto the wall and see if it sticks."

Shuichi blinked at him. With a sigh Eiri took the strand between his fingertips and flicked it at the wall. The strand haphazardly stuck in place and the singer began to laugh.

"I take it back," the writer grumbled, turning off the heat for both pot and wok. "You _can't _follow instructions."

"Oh come on, Eiri," Shuichi giggled, peeling the spaghetti off the wall and coiling it up. "I never thought you stuck food on walls!" He popped it in his mouth.

"It's a way of testing if it's cooked," the writer argued as he handled the pot toward the sink.

"Well, it's a funny way of testing!" Shuichi snagged the colander and came over to put it in the sink and Eiri poured the spaghetti through it.

"You're being silly," the writer told him then corrected himself, "No, you're always silly. And cooking requires concentration and knowledge and technique and… remind me again why I'm doing this?"

Shuichi stuck his finger in the air and solemnly declared, "Because food made with love is the best kind. And I might one day actually be able to cook for you."

"You aren't even paying attention to my lesson," Eiri admonished. "Do you know how many people would like to learn cooking from me?" He poured the drained spaghetti back into the pot.

"I can imagine people want to learn a lot of things from you," Shuichi said darkly, recalling the crazy fan-girl from the previous week who had asked if the writer would teach her how he 'liked it' and almost earned herself a shoe in the face from the irate singer.

"Jealous?" Eiri prodded, amused, leading the way back to the stove.

Shuichi hopped up onto his stepping stool and stuck his tongue out at Eiri, uncovering the wok. As the food finished cooking, the singer mixing everything together to cook evenly, the aroma wafted up and he hummed happily.

"Not bad," Eiri murmured, watching.

"Smells pretty good," Shuichi agreed. "I'm getting hungry." He got down, snagged the stepping stool with his foot and dragged it along to where he needed it to help him reach for the bowls. Setting them down on the counter, he turned to hop off again… only he decided that jumping onto his lover made a much better alternative.

"The hell?" Eiri oofed, staggering a little from the momentum and sudden weight.

"I love you," Shuichi cried joyfully, hanging precariously, and kissed Eiri's cheek.

The writer wrapped his arms around Shuichi and the kid giggled with delight, wrapping his legs around Eiri's hips --who perfunctorily complained, "You're heavy."

"Don't care," Shuichi returned, smiling widely, "You taught me how to cook pasta. Thank you," and angled his head to give his lover a kiss.

A very long kiss. Which involved getting pressed up against the wall…

"Mmm…" Shuichi hummed as though his lover's kisses were the tastiest thing in the world, stroking back Eiri's hair from his face. "Much better when you stick _me_ to the wall…"

"You've got a dirty mouth today," the writer observed.

"I also dunno which I'm hungrier for now…"

"The food is cooked," the writer murmured, eyes hot as he studied Shuichi's flushed cheeks. "We could leave it…"

"It'll get cold though," the singer pointed out though he looked torn. "Or I'll get cold… but I really want to taste the fruit of our efforts. You've never really let me cook before and we made it together--"

"Tch," Eiri interrupted, setting him down and Shuichi pressed a kiss to the writer's shoulder before taking out some utensils and serving up the food.

They sat side by side on the kitchen island instead of in chairs, Eiri's long legs propped up on the counter across from them and Shu's feet on his shins. They faced the window, quiet for long moments, the setting sun colouring them and the room, their bowls in hand.

A few bites in, Shuichi asked, "What do you think?"

Eiri paused, glancing over at the singer's shining face, remembering what Shuichi had said about making food with love. He looked down at his food before meeting his lover's eyes and softly deadpanned, making Shuichi lean on him and laugh with delightful bliss,

"Better than when I make it alone."

_Fin._


	16. Kitty

_**Kitty  
**__21 December 2008  
__**Series:**__ Excerpts of Togetherness  
__**Summary:**__ Eiri gets a taste of what being without Shuichi means.  
__**Warnings:**__ Drama, a touch of angst, a lot of depression and character torture._

**Author Notes:** I have no idea where this came from, I promise you. I was just thinking about this pairing and wondering why I haven't written them in months and months... and then a muse whispered. I've been sick all weekend so maybe this is something out of the fever haze. I'm sorry if the writing is a little cold; I haven't edited it yet. Oh, and I know the title sucks.

* * *

Eiri stiffened and held his breath as he watched his lover unexpectedly turn a perfect back flip on stage. He breathed on a strangled tone, "What the hell?"

"Ahh," Touma murmured from beside him, speaking softly yet somehow heard clearly above the din of both the rising fan-cheers and the pop music blasting through the entire venue. "Did I not mention that Shindou-san has been getting into the advanced levels of his dance class? He's been working on that for a few weeks."

"That's not dancing," the writer grumbled, releasing his hold on his arm rests and leaning back again in his chair, re-adapting the perfect air of dangerous boredom. "That's bloody suicide."

"I do suppose there's the risk of falling of the stage or even tripping on the wires," Touma mused in an infuriatingly calm voice. "Maybe even misjudging distance and bumping into one of those metal microphone props or something, perhaps."

"And you _let_ him do something so dangerous?" Eiri growled low in his throat in irritation; he knew his best friend was only saying these things to rile him. Around him, no one else seemed to have the same worries.

Touma waved an unconcerned hand in the air, "You know better than I do that when he sets his mind to something there is nothing that can dissuade him."

Eiri growled again. He did know.

He also knew when he planned to broach this topic with his little imp lover and used the next presented opportunity to do so: right when the concert ended and the band members were rushed off the stage and directly into their waiting transportation. That is to say, Shuichi directly into Eiri's car.

"Man!" Shuichi nearly shouted, his hearing a little off now away from all the noise and speakers. "That was an amazing concert! I can't believe all the people, the energy, it was fantastic!" He gleefully strapped himself in and turned to rave some more, "Did you see the crowds? I don't think anyone sat down the entire time!" He settled in as Eiri pulled away, laughed delightedly and only after his excitement had been voiced did he realise the driver's side of the car had not spoken at all. "Eiri?"

"You did a backflip," Eiri stated quietly. Dangerously.

As always, the little singer seemed to catch on to his mood. He responded with proud defensiveness. "I did, didn't I? Wasn't it cool?"

Eiri spoke slowly, like speaking to a retard or child, "You could have broken something."

Shuichi knew what he was talking about, lips beginning to twitch. "Were you worried about me?"

"Of course not," Eiri automatically denied. He stopped at a traffic light and managed to deadpan right into Shuichi's face, eyes alight with insincerity, "Do you have any idea how much one of those stage equipment costs? Touma would have fleeced us bankrupt." Shuichi suddenly laughed and Eiri knew he was outdone. He sighed.

"You were worried about me!" Shuichi squealed, reaching over to give him a wet kiss on his cheek and Eiri was sure, very sure, he did not lean down that tiny bit to receive it. "It was pretty good, admit it," the singer persisted, keeping as near toward his lover as his seatbelt would allow. "I looked great."

"You looked like a soggy noodle," Eiri said as the light turned green, pressing his foot on the accelerator and blasting forward.

"I have the agility of a cat!" Shuichi argued, chuckling.

But then Eiri only just heard that statement before suddenly all he could think about –in flashes before his eyes—how very true that statement was. How Shuichi would watch TV upside down on the couch, his hips and legs propped up by the back rest and then kick off the wall to roll over his head to his feet. Or how the kid would run down the hall to surf the hardwood floors in his socks. Or even when Shuichi jumped over the furniture like an agile little thing Eiri could never hope to catch.

There was dead silence for a split second and then, on Shuichi's side, a car had just run his red light and slammed into them.

Their car jerked violently, spinning in a way it never should and Eiri shouted, voice drowned out by the sound of the crash, other vehicles' horns blaring, and the tyres squealing. He reached to pull his lover toward him, toward the safe side, frustration mounting because the damn seatbelt kept Shuichi in place and lights were flashing all around them, the world spinning and glass flying and—

With a rough, tilting crash, everything stopped. And Eiri looked over at his lover, unmoving, bleeding, and he swore his own heartbeat did too. There were screams and commotion but he noticed it only distantly.

The next few moments were a frozen daze of shock as he stared and stared at the dark liquid slipping along Shuichi's pink hair, the chicken scratches of red that covered what looked like every inch of exposed skin, the still body, the quieted voice, the closed eyes –and all he could think about was what would happen if those eyes never opened. If the last thing he'd done to his lover was joke about Shuichi's dancing.

There were voices, he knew that but he couldn't be sure of what was said at all. He only heard the sirens and voices when they pulled him out and Shuichi was no longer in sight, still there in that car. Someone got into the space he'd just vacated, reaching for his lover and—

"Get the fuck away from him!" Eiri shouted, suddenly fighting. Whoever had him, however, seemed to have expected this and he was quickly restrained, forcibly and a little painfully made to move away from where Shuichi was. "No!" He struggled in earnest. "NO! Shuichi!"

It took two more police officers to get him down this time but when they did, he recognised the back of an ambulance and he really didn't like the look of that syringe making its way toward him—

"Damn it!" he snarled when he felt the needle slip in, and the black enveloped him gently.

--

"I hate hospitals," Eiri muttered darkly the instant he opened his eyes and nearly groaned at the pain of the dozen little needles piercing his skull at the-- "Why is it these people put patients on their back right under those infernal lights?"

"Aniki!" Tatsuha's strained and worried face came into view, thankfully blocking that obnoxiously bright light. "You're awake. Thank God." Eiri sensed him moving away, "I'll go get a doctor." And back came the lights; useless Tatsuha.

"Eiri?" Touma. He sounded stressed and worried. It seemed he didn't know it but those who knew understood that's what it meant when Seguchi Touma's voice went that soft and gentle. "Your injuries have already been tended. You will be cleared soon, if that helps any." Ahh, good Touma, always knew exactly what mattered. Nowadays at least. "You can go see him later today, if you like."

"Where?" Eiri flexed, starting with his neck and working his way down. The neck hurt. Backlash, probably.

"He's in the recovery room, fresh out of surgery," came the quiet reply. "We'll see him when he's put into the ICU and the doctors officially clear you." The writer turned to pin Touma with an expectant stare as he shook out his shoulders. "He… his being on the crash side caused a lot of flying glass to embed in his skin. They've been working on removing the pieces."

"How bad?" Then he got to his ribs. His ribs definitely would give him trouble when he got back upright.

"No broken bones but he cut his scalp and shoulder, a bit of his neck and face, and also his stomach where it was exposed by the costume. The leather did help to minimise the cosmetic damage, however, we can be grateful for that."

Something in Touma's voice made Eiri's stomach clench horribly. "How. Bad."

"Severe concussion. He's in a coma." Touma didn't move.

Eiri didn't move.

The door opened, "Mr Uesugi? It is good to see you awake. My name is…" But the writer barely registered anything for a while after that.

--

That very same day but late in the night, ribs aching and neck sore, Eiri got into a wheelchair and Touma wordlessly nodded, knowing precisely where he wanted to go. In the ICU hall, they passed the workstation of worried nurses full of what the writer supposed were fans because he caught them whispering his lover's name. They fell silent when they spotted him and the way they looked at him made the writer's blood boil.

_Click. Whirr. Click. Whirr._

The machine hooked up to the singer's mouth and nose did its little up and down, up and down, pushing air in and pulling it back out because Shuichi couldn't do it himself. Always such a lazy brat. Always making people worry.

He looked tiny. Well, he was quite small to begin with but all the big things in the unfamiliar room made him seem like a child. Shuichi's eyes were closed, his pink hair spilling out over the pillows and he would almost look asleep except that his eyes didn't twitch under his eyelids. He didn't move.

Eiri helplessly followed the lines of that familiar face, the forehead, temple, nose and cheeks, the chin and full lips, the half-moon eyelashes he remembered feeling against his bare back the night before last when Shuichi had hugged him and blinked against his skin.

Skin.

He reached for skin but it wasn't as warm as he expected, like this wasn't his lover but some doll that looked like him and had all the right features, but this wasn't… this _wasn't_ Shuichi.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

Another machine? How could he have missed that? It monitored heartbeats. There were heartbeats again. The Shuichi doll was alive.

Modern see-through plastic covered parts of the still form's body. His extremities on the crash side were set apart from his body in the little plastic casings. They were like little windows to all the cuts; many cuts, so many of them crisscrossing and red and angry and Eiri was getting pretty angry himself. They didn't belong there.

And all this time, nothing moved. Only the machine breathed.

Eiri hated hospitals.

He said hoarsely, "Take me home."

--

The house was quiet. The people camped outside his doorway were not.

Eiri hated them all with a passion today, wanted them to quit bothering him when usually, he never minded them. They always moved out of his way when he walked and they asked such amusing, ridiculous questions. But today they were irritating and useless people with likely no lives if they needed to pester him about his.

The apartment had three rooms: the bedroom, the office and the one that'd been dedicated over to Shuichi's messes but usually referred to as the music room. The door was open so Eiri shut it.

He went to work, for lack of anything else to do and because it was what he usually did; a habit. He spent a lot of time in there staring at the blinking cursor on the word processor page. No words came out. None of his own.

He wandered the house, tidying up the loose papers of lyrics and shoving them in the music room. He caught sight of leopard print clothing under the couch, found a crazy colourful pen in the kitchen, and other things where they didn't belong. Shuichi's things.

He put them in the music room, too, and went to bed.

In the morning, he ached a little more. He wandered down the silent hall to the bathroom and got some painkillers. The phone rang and he ignored it, turned the volume of the answering machine down so he wouldn't hear anything of whoever had called. He abhorred it when people called over the machine to him to come and answer the phone. Shuichi did that, though, a little memory reminded him.

But Shuichi wouldn't be calling today.

Anger.

Eiri was angry. How dare…?

He knew he shouldn't be angry at Shuichi of all people but he can't help it and, growling, he made for his office and he sat down. Words spilled. He wrote a tragic love story filled with calamity, pain and anguish. He decorated it liberally with misfortune and despair. He wrote and wrote and finally, the outline was done. It was one of those painful little sagas he used to publish at the beginning of his career, the ones that tore at people's hearts and made them hate to be fans.

He hated it.

But he couldn't do anything else with it and as it had been two days of writing and ignoring the phone, sustaining himself on coffee, he went to bed.

When he woke up, it was to rain pouring, pattering on all the windows, a quiet background buzz that helped calm him. It was cold in the apartment and he wondered for a moment if it would be safe to go out in those conditions before he realised he isn't the one who has to worry about that, and there's no one here to worry about that for.

He took a shower, ignoring the ringing phone. He stood in his bedroom a moment wondering what to do before it occurred to him he needed to eat. Cooking wasn't as much fun today but he'll do it anyway, knew he should feed himself after two days of next to nothing as he wrote that ridiculous outline. There's a yellow post-it stuck to the fridge.

_I love you, Eiri. See you tonight!_

It was from a few days ago, the day of the concert. It's stuck to the fridge by a crazy-looking cartoon magnet, right by the top of the fridge handle where Eiri can't miss it because that's always where he'd always grasped it to open the door.

It blurred.

Eiri realised his eyes were watering. No, tearing. Ignoring that too, he cooked. He ignored the ringing phone as well. But he couldn't ignore it when the door was unlocked and a gun shot away the barring chain, the sound startling him, echoing in the empty apartment. Mika stormed in, waving K off and the American saluted before standing menacingly outside to keep the press at bay.

"Eiri," she spoke quietly, without that usual commanding air she usually sported. "I know this is hard on you." He stood there, scowling, expectantly staring. "You should come and stay with Touma and I for a while. Just so you're not alone. What do you think?"

He said nothing, quirking a brow because there was only one thing they both know he would be interested in hearing.

"No," she murmured dejectedly, "He's not awake yet. No sign yet that—wait, Eiri!"

He'd already gotten halfway down the hall, his food in hand and he slammed the office door behind himself, locking it to keep her out. He had nothing to say to her.

Another day passed, another day he ignored the phone. It'd been a week now since the accident and it occurred to him that it was rather like his lover being away on tour, only it hurt a lot less with the knowledge his lover would come back.

He couldn't write.

The words had stopped again and he cannot force them. He cleaned, instead. He shoved everything of his lover's into the music room. He couldn't stand to look at them. He cleaned away nearly all evidence that Shuichi had ever been there, even removing Shuichi's CDs from the CD tower they shared in the living room, Shuichi's videos from the video shelf. It wasn't until he was brave enough to sit down and watch TV that he noticed he'd left his lover's gaming consoles out; those got put away as well.

The house was devoid of colour by the time he was done. There was a moment he wished he could erase that door in the hallway, the one where everything had been locked behind.

But when he went to bed that night, he realised there wasn't the scent of his lover in the room anymore and he couldn't sleep. It was inevitable that he finally opened Shuichi's closets and pulled some of his lover's pullovers out, shoved them under the blankets and over the pillows to sleep amongst them. A nest of Shuichi, he thought. It made the tightness in his chest expand but he managed to get some sleep.

In the morning, the rain persisted. Staring out at the media vans, less of them now, out on the driveway, Eiri wondered if the city maintenance had cleaned away all evidence of the accident from the site. They probably had.

He ignored the ringing phone but he did glance over at the answering machine and saw that the red light was on to indicate there was no more space in the machine. Considering the little thing had two hours worth of recording space, it certainly made it clear he would not be listening to any of them. He would leave that to Shuichi. Shuichi always listened to their messages, was the one who would tediously go through them when they came back from holiday and it was full.

_Shuichi._

Eiri put everything back; everything of Shuichi's he had put away, even the leopard print cloth scrap under the couch, feeling a little guilty he had ever been angry with his lover for what had happened.

When he was done, for the first time, Eiri wondered who idiot it was who'd run the red light. Anger sang through him anew at the thought but there was a thread of satisfaction in it because he knew Touma had probably dealt with the hapless man; that was probably why it had been Mika who'd come to see him. His best friend had probably been busy.

His best friend had also decided that he should no longer be alone.

Precisely ten days after the accident, Eiri woke to find Touma sitting calmly by his bedside. "Good morning, Eiri-san." The writer said nothing but he was suddenly awake, rolling over and sitting up quickly, expectant. Touma's eyes darkened, "No, I'm sorry. He's still asleep."

Scoffing, Eiri flopped back down. Nothing was spoken for nearly a full minute, and he wondered how much a minute of Touma's time cost.

"I think it's time you come back to the hospital, Eiri-san," Touma said quietly. "I believe your condition should be monitored as well. And you can be by Shuichi's side when he wakes up."

Eiri glared. He didn't want to watch Shuichi sleep. He didn't want to wonder about if or if not his lover would wake. He shook his head, stood and went for the shower.

When he emerged Touma quietly, softly, gently, asked, "When was the last time you spoke?" Eiri froze. "I thought so."

By the time the writer had dressed, Touma had packed some clothes and clutched Eiri's computer bag, prepared. It didn't matter how much he glared or resisted, Touma had K manhandle him, practically dragged him out the door and past the shocked press. He struggled but it was futile and he was so angry that all he could see was a haze of red.

But he didn't say a word.

--

_Click. Whirr. Click. Whirr._

_Beep… beep…beep…beep…_

Eiri hated hospitals.

He was also beginning to hate the sight of that doll on the bed. Anger made him a little bit dangerous, and fans sneaking into the ICU were a concern, so there was a bodyguard stationed at all times in the room. The man never spoke either, and neither did the two others assigned to the rotation.

_Click. Whirr. Click. Whirr._

_Beep… beep…beep…beep…_

Eiri felt he would go mad at the sounds and when one of the bodyguards finally spoke it was to tell Touma that Eiri hadn't been sleeping and couldn't stand the noise. The writer had been reduced to sitting with his head cradled in his hands by this point, quietly hysterical, and Touma quickly booked out the empty room next door for him to sleep in, the condition being that he would leave it when the hospital had need for it.

Blessed silence.

Tatsuha must have gone to check on their apartment because when he woke one day, the nest of Shuichi had followed him. He slept much better.

The days slipped slowly, slowly by but nothing changed with Shuichi. Eiri left the lights in his own room off so that when people came and went to the room next door, he could watch them. They had to pass by him to get to it. But half the doctors left looking bland and the other pleased, and the writer took that to mean that at least nothing had gotten worse.

"_I have the agility of a cat!"_ Had been Shuichi's last words and Eiri thought mindlessly that cats had nine lives and—

His temper finally snapped.

He kicked over one of the drip stands in the room and sent the bedside table flying. More things fell victim to his wrath and the security personnel assembled but it looked like they had been warned this might happen because they didn't try to remove him from his room or restrain him.

Eiri pulled out his laptop.

He writes about an old man, a jaded and sarcastic man whose arthritis prevents him from playing his beloved violin.

The old man was famous; is still famous in the world of the book. Some musical families have even named their children after him –he was such a prodigy. But without his music, the man is cynical and rude to everyone –including the young pianist who lives next door. The pianist is a young man; he says he wants to play in an orchestra someday. The old man tells him he plays like crap but the young man only laughs.

The old man is cooking one night when he hears his neighbour begin to play. It's beautiful as always but there are these little pauses, the tiniest deviations from the correct tempo. The young man always does that and the older believes it's to piss him off. He storms out of his apartment and to his neighbour's, slamming the door open;

"You can't play", he rages, "you're all over the place and you lose the momentum!"

"Well then," the young man cheekily replied, only sparing him a sidelong look. "How do you propose I play?"

In a fit, the older man tells him about everything that is wrong, smugly points out every single flaw and verbally rips the young man's music playing skills to shreds. But he somehow demands to teach the young man; he has nothing better to do.

A week later, the music is a little better. But the old man says nothing.

A year passes.

The young man has mentioned once that he began to like music when he heard there was someone just the same age as him who played magnificently. There was, because of that, no reason to deny that he could not pursue his own dreams, either. The old man has heard of who that pianist was; they had gone to the same school.

They share meals. They argue over music. The old man loses his temper and the younger one laughs.

And the old man still doesn't like the way the younger plays –or at least that's what he says. He still insults his unofficial student at every opportunity. As always, the young man replies with humour. He is always smiling, always cheerful.

But the old man doesn't know what colour the pianist's eyes are.

That doesn't really matter, he knows. What does is that it's to that young man that he found his new calling in life. He's become a conductor.

The old man realises that he's not so old after all. He's alive and he's making music; the music is coming back and filling his head and his dreams, and he doesn't command one instrument anymore because it's an entire orchestra that plays for him.

Finally, he wants to do a piano concerto but there's no one who plays like he wants them to. There's only one person who plays the way he likes and he hasn't seen the young man in weeks.

He thinks the young man is home; the pianist is always home except for mornings so he goes straight there and knocks. There's no answer.

There's no answer the next night or the next. There hasn't been piano music from that place in weeks, he realises. And when he speaks to the landlady, the woman tells him the young man moved out. His parents have found an institution for him.

Institution?

"Why yes," she replies offhandedly. "He needs care now because he's finally gone completely blind."

Blind.

He had never known. He had never known the pianist's eye colour. He's dazed. But then he's angry. The young man had never said anything and that makes him angrier so the old man just goes back to work. He channels his rage into his next performance and presents it magnificently; the reviews say so. But he cannot do a piano concerto.

And people notice.

A few months later, he's driving by an old section of town. He's gone to visit a friend and they sit outside on the veranda, in the sun where the breeze is cool. There's a piano playing in the distance. The rhythm is perfect.

"Oh that?" said his friend. "It's someone next door. I have no idea who it is, though."

When he leaves, he knows there's something familiar about the playing style and he walks over to whatever is next door. It's an institute –an establishment for the blind.

He leaves in a storm of temper.

It's only a week before he's back, angry and resentful. He makes his way to the common room and finds the young man sitting at a large and old piano. The sun streams down on him like a golden blanket and makes the pianist look almost ethereal. Unable to speak, not wanting anyone to know he is there, he sits nearby and listens to the young man play amidst a room full of other blind people.

He comes three times a week. But the music is deteriorating, he notices. He refuses to think it's the young man so he donates a piano. The sound is crisper the next time he visits, but the sound of lack of heart is only all the more clearly evident. It's slight. But it's there.

Months pass again, the music progressively going systematic and cold. And finally one week he arrives and there's no one at the piano. It's quiet and still and finally he asks where the young man is.

"He refuses to play now," said one nurse. "Sad, really, since he's very good."

Stricken, he asks to be taken to where the young man is. And there's a room; a darkened room with little life in it and a curled up hopeless body on the bed.

It's been so long since they'd met but all the old man can ask is, "Why don't you play anymore?"

The young man is still but his breathing turns harsh. "You… have you been listening?"

"Yes," the old man replies. He's angry again and he says, "You're supposed to keep practicing."

There is a long, long silence. Finally, the young man speaks but it's with a crushed voice and dead words, "I have nothing left to give the music. I don't have music in me anymore."

The old man leaves in a storm.

It's only a week again before he's back. "I want you to play in my orchestra," he says tightly. "I have enough to give music worth an entire group. I think I can spare enough for you." It's a ridiculous analogy but what else is he supposed to say?

The young man comes home with him. He finds out the young man's eye colour is black. A deep and bottomless ink black he could lose his soul in, marred only slightly by a strange film of pale white. But they are eating together and arguing over music again. He refuses to insult the young man's music now and the younger man's smiles are still non-existent.

It takes time, nearly a month.

But the older man is harshly belligerent when the young man's parents come for him. He's rude to the point of aggression and all it takes is a gentle touch on his hand to make it stop. But the young man has found his smiles again and he tells his parents he wants to do this.

Soon, the smiles come more often and he is playing beautifully again. The tempo is perfect and the music flows between them as though words were no longer necessary. The old man's orchestra is stunned when the younger comes to practice with them for the first time; they ask if he is a prodigy.

And they play a concerto together, the pianist and his orchestra. The reviews are fantastic.

"You were never going to a school for music, were you," the old man says. It's more a statement than a question.

The young man smiles, "No. I've never been to music school though I did have a tutor in my youth." He hesitates then admits, "But I have music in me. And I can hear it again now."

The old man helplessly replies, embarrassed to admit it, "I have my music back, too."

"You lost it?" Asked the young man with surprise.

"You gave it back to me," the old man whispers. And he means it. He'd lost his music and now it was back and he couldn't let this young man go without letting him know that and— There's a gentle hand on his cheek. He doesn't remember when he closed his eyes but he opens them now and the young man is smiling tearfully at him.

"You gave it back to me, too," says the pianist. "But you stole my heart in return."

"Then it's fair," said the old man, voice breaking, covering the hand on his cheek with his own; he doesn't want to be let go. "You made the same trade with me."

_Blink… blink… blink…_ went the innocent cursor. No more words.

Touma sat nearby; Eiri hadn't noticed when his best friend had come in. He blinked blearily at his best friend but the image blurred and the writer realised his eyes were tearing again. Blurry-Touma stroked his face soothingly and made shushing noises, and Eiri would have snapped at him but he was just too tired.

How many days had it been this time?

He accepted assistance in getting into bed, lying down and before he knew it… he knew nothing.

--

Eiri was sitting by Shuichi's bed, holding his lover's hand when the hand twitched. He wasn't sure it was a twitch, body tense and waiting but as he stared, there was another. Eyes began to move beneath Shuichi's lids, and his eyelashes fluttered very slightly.

The doctors looked pleased.

They took the breathing tube out and the singer breathed on his own for the first time in weeks. Eiri wasn't sure what he should be feeling but to see Shuichi's face uncovered, to see his lover look more like he was sleeping, suddenly halved the weight in his chest. The doll was gone.

It took another two days before Shuichi woke. His first words were a hoarse and dry, somewhat frantic, "Where's Eiri?"

And holding his lover's hand Eiri's first, in weeks, were a gently reassuring soft, "I'm right here."

_Fin._

* * *

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	17. Possession

_**Possession  
**__22__nd__ December 2008  
__**Series:**__ Excerpts of Togetherness  
__**Summary:**__ Shuichi belongs.  
__**Warnings:**__ Eiri a tad bit out of character… or accurately in character. Depends on how you look at it.  
**Author Notes:** Oh my God, another one? Where the heck are all these crawling out from?!_

* * *

"_SHUICHI!!_"

Eiri was pretty certain his voice had not only made it out of the kitchen and down the hall but into the bedroom and past the music blasting in his idiot lover's ears. It seemed that in the months since their car accident, his body had made up for his two weeks of silence by making his voice stronger to deal with his permanent little irritant.

He listened as Shu hesitated but then there came that pattering of footfalls going for a running start, the whine of friction as the singer skidded down the hallway in his socks, Shu bracing his stop in the kitchen doorframe,

"Eiri?"

"Do you want to explain to me what _this_ is?" Eiri asked slowly as he stared into the laundry basket. He bent and with two fingers disgustedly pulled up what looked to be a netting of white cloth tapes.

"Um," Shuichi gave the article a quick wide-eyed glance before bravely meeting his lover's eyes dead-on, innocent expression marred by the blush just beginning to taint his cheeks. "No?"

"Just tell me," Eiri growled dangerously, shaking the offending piece of material, "If you wore this in public or not."

"Uhhh…"

"Explain," the writer demanded on a hiss. He tossed it at his lover, "What is it and where did you wear it?"

Shuichi scrabbled to ball it up into his pocket and smiled distractingly, "It's just a part of the costume I wore for the Bop Peat shoot. It's nothing." He tried to turn away but Eiri kicked the laundry basket by his feet at the escaping singer, knocking him off his feet, who with a squawk fell in it in a heap. "Eiri!" Half-buried in dirty laundry, Shuichi wrinkled his nose, pulling a sock from his shoulder and slapping it down between his knees into the basket. "What the heck was that for?!"

"You," Eiri pointed at him, "were trying to escape. Now I want an answer more than ever." When Shuichi folded his arms and pouted, looking rather cute as he Stood His Ground, the writer offhandedly said as he abandoned the laundry and stepped over his lover, "Fine. You don't have to tell me what it is and where it was worn."

"Hmph," Shuichi huffed, eyes lighting up with victory.

A little further down the hallway the writer smirked and called over his shoulder, "You just don't get any sex until you do." Amidst the yell of _That's not fair!_ he made it into his office then shut and locked the door behind him.

Damn brat.

--

So perhaps Shuichi hadn't worn the netting in public, he had worn it for a photo shoot.

What the hell had Shu said about it being 'a part of' the outfit?! The little brat was as good as fucking naked…!

Eiri growled at the fold-out spread of Shuichi standing in a Photoshop background of a dead forest desert. The image had a gothic feel to it, Shuichi done up in dark makeup, white wings artfully arranged, white feathers fluttering about him in the wind as the wings seemed to be deteriorating. He was dressed in that netting the writer had found the day before, the white of the cloth tapes arranged to look like Shu had been bound and wrapped many times over with ribbon. The so called 'other parts' of the outfit consisted of white ribbon wrapped repeatedly around his feet and ankles, again at his hands, all the ends trailing lightly about him.

A bound, fallen angel.

_His_ angel.

So it looked pretty darn good but that wasn't the point. The point was the way there appeared to be some Photoshop work done around Shuichi's… between his… damn it all to hell.

Eiri supposed there were original photos somewhere and those probably held a nice little peek down between a few of those ribbons where no one's eyes should ever go but his own. With a growl, Eiri shoved the magazine into a drawer and picked up his mobile.

"Hello, Eiri-san."

"My lover is naked in Bop Peat's magazine."

"Actually, he's wrapped in ribbons," Tohma returned calmly. Eiri refused to acknowledge the thread of amusement in it. "Don't you like it?"

"No." Eiri lied through his teeth, "I don't."

"Ahh, I see." And the writer could just imagine Tohma nodding, "You like the image but not the idea that others might too. Why, how selfish of you, Eiri-san."

The writer snarled, "Did you approve these?"

"Of course."

"You _approved_ for Shuichi to be displayed naked to the whole of Japan?" He wanted to bash his best friend's head in, fingers tightening around his phone, the plastic giving an ominous sqeak.

"Actually, Bop Peat is exported around the world--" Eiri put the phone down on him.

He counted to ten.

Then forty.

He still couldn't get his tempter under control.

"_SHUICHI!!"_

Timid knocking at his door then that pink head popping through, and quietly, "Yeah?"

Eiri threw the magazine at him and glared. Used to his tantrums (damn it, he had a _right_ to be pissed off) Shuichi picked the magazine up, the fold-out sticking out, and flipped to the image of himself in the spread.

"Oh! That came out pretty good!" Shuichi exclaimed excitedly, eyes bright as he looked it over. Eiri grit his teeth. "Don't you think— Uhh…" He broke off when he looked up and caught the Glare of Doom in his lover's eyes. He sobered quickly, looked back down at the image and back up at his lover's stormy expression. "Uhh… It's… _not_ good?"

Barely able to contain himself, Eiri made himself stand up slowly. Very slowly. Shuichi cringed slightly and backed up a pace. Glowering, the writer walked slowly toward his lover, Shu pushing the magazine protectively behind his back, chin lifting up to keep meeting Eiri's eyes.

"You're naked in that picture," Eiri said quietly, voice rough with temper and shaking with his ire. "You. Are naked. In that picture. For all the world to see. Do you understand that?"

"I'm sorry," Shuichi murmured apologetically, wide eyed.

"You," Eiri enunciated dangerously. "Are _mine._ Do you understand _that?_"

"Yes!" Then Shuichi must have suddenly realised he was in Very Grave Danger because at that moment, he squeaked then scrabbled to turn and run away. But Eiri's longer stride and longer arms caught him not three steps away and lifted him into the air. "Eiri, NO! Tomorrow's _Monday!_ I have to go to work tomorrow! Eiri? Eiri! _I'm sorry!_"

Wailing, Shuichi suffered being slung over a tall shoulder and hauled away into the bedroom. Not even trying to grip onto the door jamb could stop the writer, who merely leaned his weight to break Shu's holds and kept going to his destination.

"Eiriiii!!!"

--

"You're walking funny," Suguru commented, frowning. When Shuichi glared, his expression cleared, "Oh, Yuki-san must have seen the latest issue of Bop Peat."

"Damn right he saw it," Shuichi muttered, limping toward one of the studio speakers, ignoring the wicked grin splitting K's face and the way Hiro's lips twitched. He lowered himself carefully onto the speaker and slowly pulled off his back pack. "Ugh, I hurt."

"Hm," Hiro murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes, "And your voice is half gone, too."

"Shut up, Hiro."

"Seems to me this is the right time to work on that love ballad you wrote a couple weeks ago," Suguru commented, ignoring the situation entirely and pulling out the sheet music, dismissing Shuichi's pain and back to business. "Your voice is at that right pitch to get that raw, bedroom feel to do it."

K grinned again, catching Shuichi's attention. Hiro smirked, catching it too. The singer rolled his eyes, a small smile ghosting his lips and resignedly said, "Alright, I'm game. Let's piss him off some more."

_Fin._

* * *

_Fictions on FF are free... but you can always give something in return by leaving a review.  
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	18. Heartsongs, part 1

_**Heartsongs  
**__11__th__ March 2009  
__**Series:**__ Excerpts of Togetherness  
__**Summary:**__ Three-part miniseries in sequence to Kitty and Possession of the Excerpts of Togetherness arc. That book Eiri wrote in Kitty is about to be released and Shuichi has a new song coming out …at the same time. Naturally, chaos ensues.  
__**Warnings:**__ Paltry attempt at comedy, some weirdness, touch of crack, sarcasm, bad language and homosexuality. You know, the usual. Word count: approx, 13,800 in three parts._

**_Many thanks to _profiterole_ (LJ) for the alpha and beta work._**

_**Author Notes:** This story may seem rather long and for a small point, but I've poured in a lot about how these two in a relationship function around and with each other, their romance and their little personality kinks we all love. Hopefully, it's not too far out there. This will be (far as I'm concerned anyway) the last installment to the EoT series. Thank you to all my reviewers for your inspirtational words and support. You have no idea how much I'm grateful._

* * *

_**Part 1**_

Not for one second did Eiri think it was any sort of coincidence that his latest book and Bad Luck's most recent chart-topping ballad had been scheduled to launch on the same day.

He could suspect his best friend had a hand in ASK's sudden downfall, in trying to sabotage his relationship with Shuichi (in the beginning) and maybe even in trying to ship the little singer off to the USA out of the way. But in this situation, mere _suspicion_ wasn't necessary.

He _knew it._

This double-launch reeked so badly of Seguchi Touma, you could smell the designer after-shave across the damn entire city.

"Does Seguchi secretly own this damn publishing company?" Eiri grumbled as he sat back in his chair, tossing the schedule down onto the table in disgust. He eyed his publishing house PR representative across the table and scowled; the woman flinched only slightly and he wondered if he might be losing his touch.

"Of course he doesn't, Yuki-san," Mirakawa replied with patting motions in the air she probably thought might calm the writer down. It wasn't working. "When we decided on the date to release your books, we carefully scheduled it so it would not coincide with other book releases."

"My lover's much-awaited single is debuting on the same day," the writer pointed out, blatantly disobeying building policy and lighting up a cigarette. Half jokingly he commented, "Might not want to weed out the hard core from the recreational fans right now, you know."

"Oh, Yuki-san," Mirakawa tittered, an excited sound that grated on Eiri's nerves all the more because it was a real and genuine laugh, "It's an arrangement out of habit but really we have no _competition!_ And a single release isn't going to do any harm to our sales. Your book 'Heartsongs' is a rare product indeed, one of the first blatantly homosexual themed novels to be published in Japan, not to mention your first! I thought it was a most poignant modern-day story of finding hope again woven so beautifully into a musical setting!" She clapped her hands together, gathering steam and her eyes lit up with an inner fire. "I have on good media authority it's quite highly anticipated! This will reset your sales records all over again, just you wait and see!"

The fire of a zealot, Eiri recognised, almost giving a sigh. Of course he'd be familiar with that passion.

He lived with one of these types of fanatics.

--

"_Tadaim_a," Eiri said perfunctorily as he shut the door behind himself and toed off his shoes.

"Eiri?" Shuichi peeked out of the living room, remote control in hand. The shifting light in the room behind him meant the TV was one but muted. He smiled happily, "_Okaeri_."

"Hn," Eiri grunted, hanging up his jacket. When he turned back around, it was just in time to catch Shuichi mid-pounce. Without even blinking, he hauled his silly lover up to tuck under one arm, upper half slung over his shoulder, and made for the living room while Shuichi giggled the whole way.

An entertainment channel was on, the two hosts talking animatedly about a recent press meeting. In the top left of the screen, a superimposed box played a recording of the post press release photo op at Eiri's publishers. It was a clip in which stood Eiri holding still in a hand-shake with the publishing company president and quirking his lips in that half smile he wore for the cameras, lights flashing so brightly it might have been mid-day in the room.

To the right of the screen was another box playing a similar scene but at the NG Records press-room. Shuichi had an arm each around his band mates, grinning widely at everyone.

"Geez, these people are making such a huge deal out of this," the writer muttered, tossing his lover onto the couch and immediately sitting down to pin Shuichi there between his back and the couch backrest. He calmly crossed his legs and slung one arm over the back rest over Shu's head.

"They should!" the singer exclaimed, wiggling in his futile attempts to get free. "We're hot stuff, you know! Besides," he looked over his shoulder up at Eiri and grinned, a scheming expression in his dark violet eyes, "The more people know about you and me—and how good we are together because you know they are never, ever going to get between us, they really should find someone else to want to bed and gossip over, it's silly—then all the better!"

"Breathe," Eiri dryly reminded his lover, one corner of his lips hitching upward in amusement.

Shu pouted and then gave a mad wiggle and kick that got him free but Eiri only had to calmly reach out and snag him by the ankle. Shuichi froze. When Eiri smirked then pulled, Shu dug his nails in, the raking making a silly rough scratching sound like a cat digging in but it was useless and he got hauled right back, this time across Eiri's lap.

Shuichi tensed to make another escape and Eiri reached down to curve one hand over Shu's shoulder and _squeezed_.

"Oh, right there," the singer moaned as Eiri massaged firmly, rolling the tense muscle there between his fingers.

"Turn the volume up," Eiri instructed quietly and Shuichi, eyes half-shut with bliss, scrabbled to get a hold of the remote.

"­_—and together on the same day! I'm sure you're all thinking the same thing; this is their way of showing us they're still together, still going strong, and inspiring each other to greater heights! I don't think there was ever such a successful relationship in the entertainment industry before these two. In fact," _The host gave the camera a sly wink, _"They could become the entertainment industry's biggest power couple!"_

Eiri stifled a groan. He gave his publishers until tomorrow morning to line up a string of public appearances and demands he bring his lover along with. They normally didn't care if Shu was there or not except in companionable agreement that it looked better to be supported by one's lover the same way he attended Shuichi's concerts. But appearing in public wasn't the same as a performance like a concert, so really, there wasn't a parallel.

"Crap," Shuichi echoed, watching the TV, having angled his head to lean it on his temple on the couch, face to the screen. "Wait 'til NG gets a hold of that idea." He sighed, "I'm sorry they'll bother you, Eiri. I know it's weird but we always get a lot more positive publicity when you're with me at concerts and stuff. I mean, we get chased when we're out in public which is a real hassle but…"

Eiri paused in his massaging when Shuichi trailed off. "Oi. Finish your sentence."

"Eiri," Shuichi's voice pitched low and slow.

"Hn?"

Shuichi grinned, "Would you go out with me?"

"What for?" Eiri avoided.

"You know," Shuichi wiggled gently and the writer let him up, "We could go out together. To dinner." He still smiled widely but he began to fidget with the edge of the couch and his clothes, "Or to a movie. Do you want to see Transformers?"

Eiri rolled his eyes. "You mean like a date."

"No!" Shu instantly refuted, worry seeping into his expression. "Nonono! Not a date!"

"I do not just date you when I'm bribed or forced, you know."

"Yes, you do," Shuichi sighed. "Remember the Odaiba Park incident six years ago when we first started… this thing?" He pointed back and forth between them. "K had to bribe you for that one."

"We go to the park," Eiri searched his pockets for his cigarette pack and lighter. "We go to eat dinner out sometimes."

"We go to the park because we've been cooped up indoors all day and we only do that when the press give up on waiting for us to come out and have moved on," Shuichi reminded. "And those days we go out to eat are when there's no food in the house or you're too lazy to cook." He scowled, "You won't let me cook."

"You'd burn the kitchen down," Eiri muttered.

"You taught me how to cook!" Shuichi exclaimed.

"With certain limited ingredients."

"I reiterate: We go out to eat when there's no food in the house and you're too lazy to cook." He narrowed cheekily amused eyes up at his lover, "Want to name how many times else we've been out since then?"

Eiri knew he had to think of an answer quickly and if he didn't remember an instant, he'd have to reject the question within good timing enough not to draw suspicion—"No."

"Hah!" the singer crowed, "Can't think of one, can you?"

And right then, an idea hit Eiri so hard he must have been a fool to not have thought of it before. "Shuichi," he said quietly, idea spinning so hard he might be dizzy, "I'd like to go to the park tomorrow morning." Shuichi blinked up at him from his lap. "I want to eat breakfast and have cake at the corner bakery on the way. You're going to be late to work. Go call NG and leave a message with one of the night receptionists." When Shu remained staring up at him in silent surprise, he pretended to back out, "Well, if you really don't want to…"

Shuichi pounced up and darted for the phone in a shot.

When he came back, he hopped up into Eiri's lap, straddling it and putting his arms around the writer's shoulders. His eyes had slid half-closed and he gave Eiri a heated look.

"Eiri, dear," he said on a cajoling tone. "Are you buttering me up for some reason?"

Shit, Eiri thought, he's on to me. "Of course not." He frowned. "You want to go out or not?"

"Yeeeeeeesss!" Shuichi exclaimed, hugging him tightly. But then he pulled back to grin, "You manipulative shit. I know you're up to something."

Eiri rolled his eyes, scooped the singer up under his butt with both hands, and rocked forward to his feet. Shuichi giggled and wrapped his legs around Eiri's waist, getting a secure grip, and the writer made for the bedroom. En route he outright denied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Shuichi just laughed.

--

Just as Eiri suspected, the paparazzi camped outside their door bright and early the next morning. Some of them even looked like they'd been there all night and the writer wondered if maybe it was time to move.

That would be a hassle, he decided. He rather liked this building's security, the concierge and guards, and all its penthouse gym perks. Plus, Eiri could drag his lover down to the water jet machine parking space in the basement parking level to wash the car with him, and soak the little idiot head to foot if he wanted. He hadn't ever seen another residential complex with a water jet machine.

"Let's walk," the writer suggested, slipping his sun glasses on and grabbing Shuichi's hand. Already the photographers had their mega-zoom lens pointed at them despite being nearly over thirty metres away.

"What?" Shuichi exclaimed in disbelief. "Are you insane? They'll jump us!"

"Hm," Eiri hummed. "Come on. Trust me."

And that settled that. Shuichi shut his trap, moved in closer and curled his hand in Eiri's as they walked sedately toward the gate. The guards there gave them dubious looks as they approached, glancing at the gathered press with irritation –who were all starting to look like they wondered if this might be their lucky day. When the couple got within shouting distance, the questions started up;

"Yuki-sensei! Do you have anything to say about the Kadokawa publishing house's offer to turn 'Heartsongs' into a manga?"

Eiri blinked; so not had been expecting that one. He admitted, "My publishers have yet to discuss that with me."

"It would make a pretty cool manga, though!" Shuichi piped up, pulling on Eiri's hand. The writer turned to his lover, who grinned happily up at him. "I mean, Kadokawa's a pretty good publishing house plus they're really experienced with BL stuff. I'd buy it!"

"Idiot," Eiri snorted, leading the way toward the pedestrian gate and pulling his lover along. "They'd probably send you a gift copy if you asked nicely."

"But I'd want to support the mangaka who draws it!" Shuichi pouted. Then he smiled again, "And the writer who wrote it!"

"What for? You spend _my_ paycheques on junk food, anyway." The writer rolled his eyes and the few journalists within ear shot chuckled.

"Shindou-sama! What have you got to say about the title of your latest single 'Song of My Heart' and did you choose the title to match Yuki-sensei's book?"

Shuichi sheepishly smiled up just as Eiri shot his lover a wry look. "You knew you were going to get shit for that," the writer muttered. "Go on, then. Tell them."

Blushing, Shuichi turned to the press and admitted, "It was because I knew about the story as it was getting written that I wrote that song." He chanced another look up at Eiri before saying, "The story was just too much like times in our relationship that I felt that I could relate to the characters. You'll know what I mean about the single title when you read the book."

"Is the song going to become the book's soundtrack song?"

"I don't think so," Eiri quickly negated.

"Why not?" Shuichi asked plaintively, eyes already round and wounded. "I wrote the song for you and your book!"

"No." Eiri started forward, suddenly intent on strawberry shortcake. "It's a book, not a movie."

"But it can have a soundtrack, can't it?" Shuichi badgered, ignoring the gaggle of journalists keeping pace with their walk and hanging on to every word of the conversation.

"No, it can't," the writer patiently explained. "Reading is not an audio visual experience. Give it up."

"Maybe we can package the single CD in with your book!" Shuichi mused aloud. A few reporters began to take notes.

Eiri came to a dead stop and glared down at his lover, "Are you kidding? I want to see who out-sells who, my book or your single."

"You're kidding," Shuichi exclaimed, aghast. Around them, the press went still and anticipative, almost holding their breaths.

"Not one bit," Eiri stated, swallowing a give-away smirk.

"Fine!" the singer declared, getting that fanatic's fire going in his eyes. "I'll take that challenge! My single versus your book!" The journalists began to froth at the mouth when he puffed up and demanded, "Well then? What are the stakes?"

Eiri, grinning and fishing a cigarette out, muttered, "Gotcha."

--

"This is revenge for the Fallen Angel photo shoot, isn't it?" Shuichi demanded as they made their way out of the coffee shop and back into the hovering cloud of journalists. He pouted darkly, narrowing his eyes, stepping quickly in their matching cadence, one and a half steps for him to Eiri's every one.

"I would never be so petty," Eiri declared, haughtily lifting his chin in the half-attempt to hide his face because his silly lover always seemed to know when he told a lie.

"You're lying," observed the brat.

Eiri gave up, "Maybe a little."

"Maybe a little…" the writer heard Shuichi mutter darkly to himself. Then Shu spoke up and prodded, "And 'Bedtalk' too?" referring to that song he'd recorded the day after Eiri had staked his ownership over his lover for that stupid half-naked photo shoot, all sexed-out vocals and provocative lyrics.

The writer rolled his eyes, "Sort of."

Indignantly, "I wrote that song about you too, you know!"

"All your songs are about me in some way," Eiri corrected, rolling his eyes.

"They are not!" Shuichi argued, seemingly just for the sake of it, "I wrote one about Hiro—"

"What?" the writer interrupted sharply. He almost paused in step just to focus his glare on the little singer.

"It's not like I'm in love with him or anything," Shuichi grumbled, sensing the sudden shift in Eiri's temper.

"You wrote a song about your best friend." Eiri had a hard time absorbing this idea, he shot his lover another quick glare.

"_For_ my best friend," Shuichi corrected. A sly grin split his face and he asked, "Are you jealous?"

"That is by far," Eiri told him, "the most ridiculous notion you have ever come up with."

And the pink-haired idiot had the gall to laugh outright and say, "You're lying!"

Then and there, Eiri planned to win this little contest, no matter what it fucking took.

--

Tucking the cigarette between his lips, Eiri turned up the car radio, silently blessing his solitude as he drove to his next appointment and smiled slightly when 'Song of My Heart' came on.

_And now my world is bathed in colour  
__How was I always so far under?  
__I'd forgotten how to stand  
__You didn't smile, just held out your hand  
__You know I see you now  
__And I'm just so amazed by how  
__It's easy to move forward  
__I no longer feel so awkward  
__Did you really accidentally  
__Learn to believe in me?_

_Walk with me, don't turn away  
__If you leave then I can't say  
__I'll never be, near or far,  
__Any place else than where you are  
__You said it's me, I make you feel  
__The sounds come down on you to steal  
__Away the silence drowning me  
__And you, but don't you see  
__Those are my lines, you stole my part  
__You are the song of my heart_

_Where you go, I'll be with you  
__Stay tomorrow and forever to  
__Let me stand at your side the way  
__You've been by mine and I can say  
__What I've known from the start  
__You are the song of my heart_

T minus one day, he thought. The book and single release launches would be in just another –he checked his watch—oh, precisely twenty five hours at half-past-noon tomorrow. Only Seguchi Touma, Eiri considered, would time the release for the lunch rush.

It'd undoubtedly be brutal.

Speaking of brutal, he and Shuichi hadn't seen much of each other these past two weeks as they campaigned heavily for attention, the press fuelling the public anticipation by publishing the conversation Eiri had let them overhear about their bet on the sales numbers. The official opening day figures wouldn't be released until the following day, also at noon, but by then he might be forced to announce what he had bargained his lover for.

It just wasn't going to be possible not to tell them because at some point soon, Shuichi would blush and slip and they would all know anyway.

Might as well release it the best way possible with minimum need for damage control.

"_You're with J-OK radio," _said the DJ,_ "That was 'Song of my Heart' the new single out by the country's most popular pop band, BAD LUCK, who we have right here in the studio! Shindou Shuichi, Nakano Hiroshi and Fujisaki Suguru. Hey, Shuichi, how's it going?"_

"_It's great! We're great!"_ Shuichi said excitedly, the speed of his speech indicating he'd probably been fed something with high sugar content. Damn K. _"We're all excited about this new single and we can't wait to share it with you guys."_

"_Is there going to be an album for this song anytime soon?"_

Shuichi paused a moment, Eiri noticed, before answering,_ "We've released 'Bedtalk' and right after that, 'In the Dark' which I wrote after my accident, not mention 'Can It Be' which Hiro and Suguru wrote while I was in my coma. Those songs are about as differently themed as you can get. But even if we've been talking about putting out a lot of other songs we've been working on… they're all like that. They aren't all the same theme right now."_

"_A lot has happened in the last few months,_" Hiro spoke up, _"I'm sure you can understand that it's brought out a lot of different emotions in all of us and we aren't sure, at the moment, if it would be good to put so much feeling into one single album."_

_"On the other hand,"_ Suguru smoothly continued, _"We also recognise this album could be a collection of everything we've been going through as a group and as individual people in recent months. And we do want to share that all with you. So for the moment, we're still thinking about what makes the most sense."_

"_I think I speak for all your fans –and our J-OK online forum posters—when I say, it would be great to have this small collection of your perspective of everything that's happened. Shuichi, how rude of me, how have you been since the accident?"_

"_I've recovered completely!"_ Shuichi reassured enthusiastically. _"I'm glad to be back home with Eiri and we're both glad it's behind us now."_ He gave a nervous laugh, _"I think my fans really felt my perspective from In The Dark, of course. But if you remember, Eiri was driving at the time of the accident, he stayed with me while I was in my coma and wrote 'Heartsongs' by my hospital bedside. When you read the book tomorrow, you'll understand how hard it was for him, how hard it was for us to go through that. We're just happy we're both okay now."_

"_I'm glad to hear and see you doing so much better but… Shuichi, why are you discussing Yuki-sensei's book on air? Isn't there a contest going on between the two of you?"_

"_That's right!" _Shuichi gasped, Hiro and Suguru's chuckles just audible in the background, _"Yes we are!"_ His voice lowered and he growled, _"And if there's one thing I hate, it's losing! You'll see! I'm going to show him…"_

Leaving Shuichi grumbling and his band mates laughing, the DJ chuckled before he cued in the next song and Eiri tried not to smile at his lover's silliness.

Oh, he was so going to win this.

--

"…what?"

"We're performing live tonight!" Shuichi howled, grinning excitedly as he held up his phone, still in his pyjamas.

He jumped up on the bed and stared down from the foot of it at Eiri who'd just stepped out of the shower, towel about his hips and another in his hands as he dried his hair.

The singer planted his hands on his hips and towered triumphantly, "It's a special free promo, we're giving tickets away enclosed in selected CDs!" He threw his hands up in the air with delight, "K-san only just told me. I'm so excited!"

Eiri tolled his eyes and continued to calmly dry his hair as he silently ransacked his brain for something he could do himself.

"We've got a morning appointment with _J-OK Radio _to make the announcement!" Suddenly Shuichi bent toward him, rubbing his hands together in exultant glee, "Oh, you're in for it now, Yuki Eiri." He muttered darkly, "I'm so going to whip your sales-number's ass!"

"Hn," Eiri said, sounding bored. And at the suspicious glint in Shuichi's eyes, Eiri realised that even if he couldn't get himself a better promo for today, he could still very well psyche his lover out. …so what if it wasn't technically fair? "Thanks for telling me your plans, enemy mine." He smirked, "Excuse me while I confer with my advisors on how to counter your manoeuvre." And off he marched down the hall to his office, relishing the flash of surprise on the singer's face… but half way down the hall,

"Eiri…" Shuichi called sweetly, "You probably want to get dressed first. Maybe put on some underwear?"

Trying not to sound petulant, "I meant to go naked." Grumbling, he refused to turn back and instead stubbornly went into his office, locked the door behind him, and went in search of those lounge trousers he'd left in here a few weeks back when Shuichi had pounced him, home early from work.

"Mirakawa," Eiri snapped when she picked up on the second ring, "We have to do something about this."

"About what, Yuki-san?" she asked, puzzled.

"Shuichi is playing a live gig tonight to promote his album sales," he irritably relayed, "The tickets are hidden in unmarked CD sleeves. They're promoting it this morning on the J-OK breakfast news." Grabbing a packet of cigarettes, he tapped out a stick and stuck it between his lips while he hunted down his lighter. "We're going to need to counter-act."

"My, Yuki-san," Mirakawa said, papers shuffling in the background, "Competition certainly makes you a very sellable writer. We should get you and Shindou-san to go head to head more often."

Unable to help the images coming into his head at her words, Eiri decisively demanded, "Are you going to be able to get some thing together for me by around ten am? I can hold him back until about half-past nine, make him miss the announcement appointment at J-OK. It might not do so much good because his band mates can make the announcement anyway but if I can way-lay him a little…?"

"That sounds fantastic, Yuki-san," Mirakawa replied, voice suddenly alive with competition. "I'll contact Mizuki-san and coordinate you a TV appearance right away!"

Eiri shoved the phone down onto its cradle and quickly stalked out the door, nibbling on the unlit cigarette in his mouth as he made for the bedroom. Shuichi was only just about dressed when he came to lounge against the door-jam.

"My PR rep, Mirakawa, just suggested you and I should go head to head more often," he lazily drawled, drawing Shuichi's attention. The singer narrowed eyes at him and he shrugged, "Word for word, I swear." He grinned, pulling out the unlit cig from his mouth and tossing it on a nearby dresser, "I say we do just that," and stalked forward with determined purpose.

Shuichi's eyes widened like deer in headlights.

TBC.


	19. Heartsongs, part 2

_**Part 2**_

Eiri seriously considered he'd never had to go running out a door and pulling his clothes on at the same time in a good many years.

Dashing down the hall for the elevator he recalled the last time he'd done this, he'd been deserting the bedroom of someone else's wife. He hadn't been a published writer and therefore hadn't had that fear of the press catching wind –the only reason he'd dared. It'd been long years since he'd cleaned up his act and settled down with Shuichi. He smirked as he got into the elevator, turning around just in time to catch the sight of his lover skidding out of their front door as haphazardly attired as he.

"_EIRI!"_ came the blast of the singer's powerful voice, raised with temper and shaking with ire. "_I'M GOING TO GET YOU FOR THIS!"_ Shuichi valiantly tried to catch up but the door had already begun to shut and the writer had his finger on the door's Close button.

Eiri grinned right as the door shut in Shuichi's face.

Snickering, he adjusted his clothes on the ride down to be ready and poised when the doors opened. The other lift could be right behind him so he dove for his car, jumped in, slotted the key into the ignition and roared away, and four seconds later, a rumpled and only partially dressed Shuichi shook a fist at him in his rear view mirror.

He flipped his phone open and dialled. "I'm on my way."

"Good!" Mirakawa replied. "I've just arrived at the TV station to oversee the set up. I'll expect you here in… twenty minutes?"

"Fifteen," Eiri corrected, then snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

Fourteen minutes later he pulled up into the parking lot, pulled his sunglasses on and hopped out, leaving his jacket behind, letting his hair be mussed by the wind, in a simple cotton pullover shirt and jeans. The press began to snap pictures through the barriers between the pavement and the actual private front lot of the station, Eiri pausing to wave and grin, knowing Shuichi would get wind of this sometime later today and simmer over it.

He chuckled to himself as he trotted up the steps into the reception area, satisfied with this morning's bedroom romp and keeping Shuichi away from his morning appointment. Sex and competition combined to make a heady mix, he decided, wondering if he could write something like this into a novel.

"Yuki-sensei!" greeted a uniform-clad stage coordinator, bowing briefly just as Mirakawa came from up the hall, jogging over toward them.

"Yuki-san," Mirakawa greeted, "Mizuki is still on her way, she was working on another angle for this evening to counter Bad Luck's live performance." She began to lead him toward the studios, "She'll brief us after this interview."

"This way, Yuki-sensei," the coordinator gestured toward a dressing room, door open and with a stylist unpacked and ready to apply the necessary make-up.

"Thank you." He obediently got into the chair and let the stylist get to work, meeting Mirakawa's eyes in the mirror, "Anything else planned for today?"

"There's a limited book signing scheduled for this afternoon, as you know," she relayed, "But Mizuki-san was thinking we should turn it into a Meet & Greet to make it more profitable. Instead of sitting and signing, people buy a book to get in line and come meet you for a photo op."

"Make the pictures free," Eiri stipulated. "Make it easier for people to join the promotion. Take the photographer's fee from my pay check, I don't care, I just want to beat Shuichi's numbers." He growled when she laughed and even the stylist snickered a bit to herself, "What's so damn funny?"

"You and Shindou-san," Mirakawa said, giggling. "You're both so up in arms about this." She waggled her eyebrows, "I can only imagine how you managed to delay him this morning and make him miss his morning radio engagement."

Eiri refused to blush, he refused. The whole damn world knew he went to bed at night with Shuichi in it; what did they think they did, snuggled? He almost grimaced at the thought, all too aware that the little singer managed to get them both wrapped around each other ridiculously tightly after any kind of sex. Post-coital, that kid clung like an angry barnacle.

"Why are you competing, anyway?" Mirakawa asked, rearranging some flowers set on a nearby side table. "I heard about some kind of bet but nothing about what it is you two bet for."

This time, Eiri couldn't hide the heat infusing his cheeks, thankful only that his PR rep wasn't looking his way, and irritated the studio stylist noticed immediately, flashing him a naughty grin.

Nosy busy-body.

"It's a long story," he said shortly, dismissively refusing to meet her eyes in the mirror when she straightened up.

Not to be deterred, she smiled charmingly at him in the mirror and said, "We have some time, you may as well tell me."

"It's none of your business," he growled, slouching a little in his seat just as Mizuki walked in.

"Yuki-sensei," she berated softly, "Do sit up straight before you ruin your posture." Not in the mood to argue, he did as bid… and then realised his mistake when she raised a brow at him. "My, this competition must have you riled indeed, you didn't put up the least bit of a fight." She sauntered over and Eiri resisted the urge to scoot away from the much too perceptive woman, "What did you bet with him over the sales numbers?"

"You've no mercy," he accused on a low mutter, ignoring the question and earning a chuckle.

"None," she agreed. "Does this have anything to do with your history of dating your lover?"

Eiri did not blush. Did _not._

"You're blushing, Yuki-sensei," Mizuki drawled. "I'll take that as a yes. I still recall the arrangement I made years ago with Mr K, you realise. So if you're doing what I think you're doing, all the power to you." She tipped her head at him, "Rather odd way to go about it, though, don't you think?"

"This is probably the only way he'd understand," Eiri allowed, grimacing enough the make-up artist clucked her tongue at him. Sort of. He felt pretty sure what he had in mind didn't completely line up with her ideas. Wouldn't to anyone's, he thought with internal satisfaction.

"Hm," she conceded, trying not to smile, "Perhaps so. He does have a tendency to adore odd forms of romantic gestures." She winked at him, "I wonder why."

Eiri growled and hoped she choked on her secret laughter.

--

"Absolutely," Eiri replied, employing every reserve of patience he had at his command. "I realise it's unprecedented, a 'normal' romance writer crafting a story in this genre but I think what we have to remember here is there's no such thing as normal or different in romance. Love is love."

"And of course," said Sachiko, the TV show host, "You wrote about something you know quite well about!" The audience gave knowing titters and Eiri smiled patiently. Thinly.

"Do you think you'll be writing anything in the BL category again, Yuki-sensei?" Sachiko asked, a passionate light in her eyes not quite as bright as two people he could think of off the top of his head.

"It depends," he answered carefully. "If I'm ever inspired to, I might. But I think this story is special in its own way given the circumstances of its creation. There might never be another like it again."

"Of course!" Sachiko backed down a bit, "We're all so glad to see you well and, of course, to hear Shindou-sama is back in the studio." The writer tried not to grit his teeth at the honorific, sensing in the way she spoke his name she would probably be buying a CD rather than a book. "Thank you very much for coming to speak with us, Yuki-sensei."

Eiri nodded, "Thank you for having me." He gave the camera his press smile and ignored Sachiko as she led away into a commercial break.

When the lights cut down, the Director calling cut, he stood up and one of the stage coordinators came up to help him remove his microphone wire. He sighed, dropping his press face, as he let the guy do his work and Mirakawa trotted up.

"Not satisfied, yet?"

Eiri instantly replied, "No."

"Good!" She clapped her hands together, "Mizuki-san has arranged a radio interview! And then you're off to your Meet & Greet, I arranged for the photos to be free as you wanted, it'll be at the biggest bookstore in the city, and they're already setting up as we speak."

"And after?" he asked, finally free of the equipment and nodding his thanks to the techie. He raised his arm in a wave to Sachiko, who smilingly waved back.

"Radio interviews all afternoon and into the evening," Mirakawa replied, leading the way off the stage. "Then a final prime-time interview on TV. I've also pulled some copies of your books to give away to lucky callers to the shows or people in the audience."

Eiri fished out his keys, ready to go, "Sounds good."

"Oh and…" she handed over his mobile, switched to Silent mode, a red light flashing to indicate he had a voice mail or perhaps a text message. "It's been buzzing since you gave it to me."

Accepting it and checking the logs, he saw he had—"Seven missed calls, twelve text messages and two voice mails." He snickered when he saw half were from Shuichi. Returning one of the calls logged, he waited patiently for—ah yes, always on the first ring;

"Eiri-san," Touma said, without greeting, "Must you annoy your own lover over sales records?"

"It was unavoidable," the writer easily replied, walking side by side with Mirakawa toward the front parking lot.

"He's not pleased."

"He should be."

"I don't see how," Touma commented then said, "Honestly, I don't know why you're bothering, you've never cared about your sales numbers. Why now?"

"That's none of your damn business, Seguchi," Eiri hissed, startling Mirakawa beside him.

"Hm," Touma breathed, amusement touching his voice, "Have you been in touch with Mr K?"

Eiri put the phone down on him and glowered as he approached his car, keying the unlock button as they approached. Mirakawa slid into the passenger seat before daring to ask,

"That wasn't… Seguchi Touma was it?" She hurriedly added, "It's just that Mizuki-san commented that you're quite close and she only mentioned it because she felt I should be warned that—"

"Damn right it was Seguchi Touma, that bastard—" Mirakawa's eyes widened, "—always messing around with my business when I'm not a child anymore and as if controlling Shuichi wasn't bad enough." He growled, throwing the car into gear and tearing out of the lot. "Asshole."

Mirakawa almost looked like she might cross herself at those blasphemous words. Eiri knew the feeling. He too sometimes wondered if Touma had the entire city wired.

--

"Coffee and cake," Eiri stipulated.

"I'm not surprised," Mizuki smiled knowingly, "You'd need something to sweeten the palate to survive the mob out there."

Eiri adjusted his shirt and the loose tie he now wore which Mizuki had brought for him to wear at the Meet & Greet event. He knew he'd be entering a fucking warzone what with the queue already leading not just through the snaking velvet ropes the shop had set up, but out the store and 'round the block. Gritting his teeth, Eiri decided he wasn't backing down.

"Count the number of people who come to meet me," Eiri spoke up, nodding when Mizuki indicated the doorway out of the bookstore backroom. "I want the hundredth visitor to have a free book and special autograph." He glanced at Mirakawa, "You did announce there would be no autographing here, right?"

"I have your stamp ready." She nodded, brandishing a small purple stamp with his pen name in _Kanji_ characters, the name of his publishing house and today's date.

Accepting the stamp, he stepped out into the shop proper and already the chorus of squeals and muted screams started up from the queue. Plastering on his press face and practiced smile, Eiri marched decisively forward onto a red carpet set out between security personnel.

For this event, he'd be standing before a backdrop of sponsor logos and a special poster depicting several enactments from main scenes of the book, a photographer ready and waiting nearby. People would come through one at a time in strict twenty-second intervals to meet him, pose for a picture, have their books stamped and be ushered away to collect their free photos. Organised, clean and efficient.

Mizuki called everyone to ready then came over to do a last minute check with him. He nodded, "Let's get this over with."

She nodded to the event host from a local TV station, who'd been walking up and down the queue with a roving camera man interviewing people and taking statements. The bright young girl checked the clock and incited the crowd to tick off the countdown to twelve-thirty.

At the re-sounding cheer from the crowd to the countdown, Eiri turned to the first fan to step up and bowed in greeting.

--

"Shit fucking damn," Eiri snarled, carefully lifting himself out of the car.

His back ached like hell from all the bowing, and so did his face from all the smiling, not to mention his voice had gone a little hoarse from all the damn radio interviews. He felt ragged and grabbed and pounced upon --probably because those were precisely what had happened to him today.

The trek from car to elevator took a longer time than it should and he leaned against the wall when he got in and pressed the button for his floor. He hoped Shuichi was home. He needed a backrub.

Groaning softly, he hauled himself up again when the doors opened, thinking wryly this state wouldn't be the least bit conducive to taking full advantage of his prize when he won this stupid bet.

A scattered pair of worn sneakers in the footwell prompted him, "_Tadaima."_

"_Okaeri_," Shuichi murmured, peeking out from the living room. Eiri lifting his head from the shoes in time to catch the dissipating temper from the singer's face. "You look like shit."

"I feel like shit," Eiri returned softly, tired and aching. He dropped off his keys, hung up his jacket, and stepped forward exactly into Shuichi's embrace, pulling his lover up against himself and burying his nose in Shu's hair. He took a slow, deep breath, and came home.

"Shower," Shuichi murmured, not moving.

"Hn." He didn't move either.

--

"Can't either of you behave?" Mizuki asked, tone implying she didn't really believe so anyway, mindfully keeping her voice low as they waited at side-stage.

Nearby, K grinned, chomping down on the unlit cigarette between his lips. Suguru rolled his eyes and far behind them all, Hiro chatted quietly on his phone, unaware of the mounting tension.

"He's being a brat!" Eiri defended, glancing up from his glaring contest with his lover.

"He's being a jerk!" Shuichi spoke up at the same time, pouting his little cute bow mouth and making Eiri all the more determined he'd win.

"Try very hard," Mizuki told them softly. "Try thinking about what you're winning when this is finally over. And keep your voices down."

"You two are a little too noisy," K said blandly in English, fingertips of one hand drifting eagerly over the handgun in its hip holster.

The reactions were instantaneous; Mirakawa offered Eiri an alcoholic drink and successfully distracted him, Suguru tapped Shuichi on the shoulder to ask something about a song the singer had been writing and Hiro made hasty goodbyes to whoever he'd been talking to, en route to K.

Mizuki simply smiled. She nodded when a stage coordinator jogged over to their little corner, looking quickly amidst them for someone sane to talk to.

Approaching her, "Live broadcast commences in ten minutes," said the stage coordinator, "You're up in twelve minutes after that at twelve o'clock noon." Mizuki nodded confirmation and he dashed off, nearly running into someone not paying attention, eyes on Eiri.

The writer noticed, glancing over the gin and tonic Mirakawa had just handed him to admire the fashionably svelte figure of Ueno Jin, a known daytime TV celebrity and budding actor.

Also recently admitted to being gay.

Copycat, Eiri thought, setting the glass down and fishing out a cig and light. He took a leisurely drag, only partly aware of Ueno in his peripheral vision, his own gaze pointedly settled on Shuichi as he argued with Suguru. Eiri had to chuckle when Suguru shot him a glare as though blaming the writer for his being saddled with distracting the singer at all.

"Good morning, Yuki-sensei," came a gentle and oddly musical baritone from Eiri's side.

"Good morning, Ueno-san," the writer politely returned, impolitely not taking his eyes off Shuichi.

"I see introductions are unnecessary," Ueno said with a soft laugh. "Are you well and prepared for the show then?"

"Mostly." Eiri checked the ash on his cig before flicking it into a nearby ashtray.

"Pardon my forwardness but I don't suppose you might be free this afternoon after the show?" Ueno asked patiently.

"Free for what?" Eiri asked, finally looking up to meet Ueno's gaze.

Ueno Jin looked to be perhaps in his mid-twenties, somewhere between his own age and Shuichi's, and wore it well. He had a classic short hair cut all gelled up, a touch of eyeliner, and the usual punk-rocker attire common on TV these days with a black iron ore cross on a leather collar at his throat. The collar gave Eiri ideas, a mental image of Shuichi on a leash making him smirk.

"For an outing," came the reply. "I would quite like to get to know you better." He quirked a corner of his lips up in what Eiri supposed would be a charming little smile. "I realise you don't know me and might not be interested in wasting some of your afternoon with me but I could… make it worth your time."

Eiri had to grin. "That's one of the most forward invitations I've received all year." He could sense Shuichi's attention shifting, the singer's radar probably lighting up at Eiri's irritation with the unwelcome invitation. Shame really. From what the writer had heard about this guy, they might have made good friends. "But much as the company promises to be entertaining, I'll decline." Eyes still on Ueno's, Eiri greeted, "Hello, Shu."

"Hi Eiri," Shuichi returned, "Peace, okay? I can't stand another moment in Suguru's company and I'd rather be with you. Hi there, Ueno-san." Eiri didn't like that slightly stiff polite tone in Shuichi's voice. "I didn't know you and Eiri knew each other."

"We don't," the writer spoke up quickly. "We knew _of _each other but have only just met." He took a drag of his cigarette as he turned to exchange small smiles with his lover, "I didn't know the two of you knew each other, actually."

Shuichi just kept smiling, innocent and carefree, and Eiri relaxed. "I was here a few days ago for the show right after this one we're doing today and I met Ueno-san in the halls." He waved his arms enthusiastically, going a little spastic, "He's a huge fan of your books, you know! Ueno-san told me so."

"Did he now," Eiri murmured, glancing back at Ueno but moving closer to Shuichi, "Would you like a copy of my new book?"

"Yea, please. That would be very kind of you, Yuki-sensei," Ueno politely replied, backing off. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"And you." He took a drag off his cigarette.

Ueno smiled gently at Shuichi, "Nice to see you again, Shindou-san. See you on set."

They watched the actor depart a moment before Shuichi spoke up, "He propositioned you too?"

"Hn." Eiri shrugged. "You?"

"Yeah." Shuichi scrunched up his nose, "He's nice enough and the rumours are that he's a good man but I hear he's a real… well, slut."

"Don't insult the word," Eiri said quietly, moving closer to Shuichi. "My lover happens to be a slut, too. Only with me, of course."

"Is he really?" the singer exclaimed with very fake surprise, winding an arm around Eiri's waist. "What a scandalous young man he must be!"

"Absolutely," Eiri instantly agreed, ditching the cigarette and returning the embrace.

"Mine too!" Shuichi said, eyes wide as though surprised.

The writer suppressed a smile at their game, "But that's exactly how I want him."

"Me too!" Shuichi snickered, "Wouldn't have my lover any other way." Eiri couldn't suppress the smile. "Now if only I win this bet I have going with him, I can get him to go out with me."

The smile turned into a smirk. "You could just ask him, you know."

Shuichi squinted in irked amusement, "He'll refuse."

"Why are you so sure?"

"He plays games with me," Shuichi said with a heavy sigh though still looked amused, "He makes these noises like he's going to go out with me if I ask but I just know that if I do, he'll turn me down flat."

"Hm," Eiri hummed, "Sounds like a complicated guy."

"Very!" the singer grinned, "But I love him."

"I think he feels the same way," Eiri said softly, the words meant only for Shuichi's ears.

"Prep for stage," a nearby coordinator called, Mizuki already walking up to them to collect her 'talent' and even the other two of Bad Luck moved to stand with a nerve-wracked Sakano, fresh from whatever prayers he'd been making at the studio's porcelain throne.

The moment broken, Eiri bent and pressed a quick kiss to Shuichi's forehead just before K snatched the singer out of his arms and slung him over a shoulder. Eyes big and wet, Shuichi bit his lip to keep it from wobbling, arms reaching and making grabby hands at Eiri as he got hauled off. Smiling softly at the funny sight, Eiri let Mizuki lead him away to where they would be stepping up onto the set.

Thirty minutes later, prepped, introduced, fan-screaming quieted down, sitting on stage with the cameras rolling and braced apart by their managers, Eiri and Shuichi resumed their glaring. The two hosts and even Ueno Jin were astonished by their behaviour.

"_Ara_, Yuki-sensei," Mizuki breathed calmly, "I'd never have believed you'd get so passionate about sales numbers."

"I don't give a—" He cut himself off with a glance at the cameras then returned to glaring at Shuichi across the stage, "I don't particularly care about the sales numbers, I just don't like losing."

"Hah!" Shuichi crowed, grinning maniacally, "Get ready to lose _Big Time_!" He pronounced the last words in English, bi-gu tai-mu, incorrectly.

Eiri snickered, earning a glower, and himself switched to English, "_Don't bet on it, brat."_

"_Mou_," the singer moaned, catching the grins on his band mates' faces in reaction, and demanded, "What did he say?!"

"It doesn't matter," Suguru stated sternly, eyes to just off stage where representatives from NG Records and Meirin Publishing had just arrived, though he didn't look particularly enthusiastic. "They're about to announce the opening day numbers. Pay attention."

Shuichi gasped then scrunched up his face, clasped his hands and began to pray, "Please let me win, please let me win, please let me win." The representatives conferred with one of the hosts while the other began to announce that the numbers were in and they'd be announcing the final winner in just a few moments—

"Too late for that now," Eiri called lazily, "The votes have already been counted."

"I'm just praying it's me!" Shuichi retorted. Both Suguru and Hiro rolled their eyes at the singular expression.

"And I'm saying you should have been praying yesterday," the writer replied. He sighed, "No use, anyway. We both know I'll win."

"_Ladies and gentlemen—"_

"You don't know that!" Shuichi yelled, pouncing to his feet, Hiro only just managing to snag the singer's belt to keep him in place. "Bad Luck has a lot of fans!"

"—_the votes are finally in. We're proud to break the numbers to you today by special live broadcast!"_

"And I was building my fan base before anyone beyond your high school even knew who Bad Luck was," Eiri easily and very smugly answered.

"_As you all know, there's been a bit of friendly, if rather heated, competition going on here between award-winning romance writer Yuki Eiri sensei and one of the country's favourite pop band Bad Luck's singer Shindou Shuichi sama."_

"Bad Luck's so big, we're this close," glowered the singer, holding his fingers a fraction of an inch apart, "To beating all the records set by the biggest ever band of Japanese history!"

"_And behind us, the arguments continue still…"_

"…_.we're not even going to try to get between them right now." _The audience laughed despite their amazement at the display of drama.

"Ahh," Eiri murmured, propping his chin in one hand, "But you're not _the_ biggest ever band of Japanese history."

"We're going to be!" Shuichi yelled.

"_So let's get right to it then, shall we?"_

"_Drum roll please! Keep in mind that these numbers are based off the final sales figures from opening time at twelve-thirty yesterday right up until midnight."_

"Whatever," Eiri dismissively snorted. "I'd won awards and published books before you ever released your first single and," he crossed his legs and closed his eyes, the perfect picture of victorious calm, "I have a wider target market age group."

"_That's quite a number of hours, ne? So far beyond usual opening hours…"_

"_Oh, yes. Because of the heavy publicity and all the promos, some shops stayed open right up until midnight or until stocks ran out."_

"That doesn't mean anything against the power of Bad Luck and its fans!" Shuichi insisted vehemently.

"_So without further ado…"_

"_And before there's bloodshed over there…"_

Eiri sighed, a smug smirk curling his lips, "When are you just going to sit down—"

"_The winner is—"_

"—and accept that I win?"

"_Yuki Eiri-sensei!!"_

Eiri smiled while Shuichi burst into tears and screamed, "_NOOOOOO!!_"

TBC.


	20. Heartsongs, part 3

_**Part 3**_

"Whyyy…?" sobbed the singer, desolately curled up in the farthest rear corner of the mini van. "Whyyy…?"

"_Jesus Christ!"_ Eiri swore in English from the front seat exchanging a look with K at the wheel. "Get over it already. Your band mates expected it, your manager expected it, your bodyguard expected it –didn't you listen to any of them?"

"Wouldn't believe us," Suguru said, not even looking over from the second row where he sat by the window looking out at the passing scenery.

"Wouldn't _hear_ of it," Hiro added, eyes shut and calmly reclining beside Suguru.

"Well that's what you get," Eiri muttered dismissively. He nodded his thanks to K when they pulled up into the underground parking level of his and Shuichi's residential building, avoiding the accumulated paparazzi awaiting their return home. Hopping out, he pushed back the sliding door and dragged Shuichi out by the collar. He waved at the van in a general goodbye, "Hn!"

K gave an upward nod and drove off, Hiro rolling his eyes at Shuichi, the miserable, melting, slobbery mess of tears.

The singer stood in dazed shock in the lift propped up by only the cabin wall. Eiri looked the brat over. Shuichi looked devastated at first glance but then he realised it was only because the singer was so dazed with disappointment. The brat would get over it.

But Eiri could feel his temper mounting. He didn't want to have to deal with shit like this, didn't want giving the brat exactly what he wanted to take a lot of work.

Then again, he thought, eyes sliding lower over Shuichi's ass, it would be so worth it.

"Get a hold of yourself, damn it," Eiri snapped when he had to drag the singer from the lift to their door. "You don't even know what the stakes are and you're already mourning."

He set the semi-slumped idiot down on the foot well step, removed his shoes and then left his lover there, heading for the shower. Twenty minutes later, refreshed and rejuvenated, he stepped out into the orange and pink light of the setting sun, Shuichi still slumped over in the foyer, still mourning his 'loss'. Brat had no idea. Well, maybe a little 'gain' would get his spirits back up.

"_Oi_," Eiri called shortly. "If you don't get dressed, we won't make our dinner date reservations." He turned on his heel and made for the bedroom to dress, ignoring the way Shuichi suddenly and brightly perked up as though having sprouted a tail and kitten ears.

"Dinner date?" Shuichi murmured to himself, hopping quickly to his feet and padding after him. A little louder, he asked, "Did you say dinner date?"

"Hn," Eiri acknowledged, rifling through his tie hanger for an appropriate complement to the dove gray suit he planned to wear. He glanced over his shoulder at his lover and asked, "Which suit are you wearing?"

"Huh?" Shuichi tilted his head in confusion, still with that silly half-smile on his face at the confirmation of a date.

"You have only two clean suits," Eiri sighed, exasperated, impatient and unwilling to _discuss this now._ "Black or red, which one are you wearing to dinner tonight?"

"Oh, um," the singer scratched his head, a bit bewildered, "The black one?"

"Go take a shower," muttered Eiri, diving back to fetch that bright pink tie he'd tried to do without but matched Shuichi's hair and favourite pink formal shirt so well –the pink shirt the singer had prepped to wear next time he used the black suit.

Shuichi sidled up close to him and quietly asked, "Wait, did you say dinner date?"

"It's what you wanted if you won, right?" Eiri asked, still sifting through the closet contents.

"Well, yes," Shuichi blinked, surprised. "But I'm not the one who won." He blinked… then brightened, turned a bit teary-eyed than bubbled, "Are you—Is this--? Oh, _Eiri!_"

"If you aren't showered and dressed in half an hour or less," Eiri growled, angling a glare over his shoulder, "We aren't going and I will simply take _my_ prize."

Shuichi began to back away but hastily, teasingly, still tried, "Are you finally going to tell me what the stakes are?"

Eiri took a menacing step forward and Shuichi, grinning madly, dashed away to the bathroom. He excitedly called back over his shoulder, "I love you, Eiri! I can't wait for our date!"

While the singer showered, humming along to the beat of the falling water, Eiri quickly pulled out Shu's suit and the pink shirt then set them out on the bed. Then he crouched and pulled out that very special black box out from under the bed and flipped it open, slowly, carefully, sifting through its contents and wondering which toy would be the most fun to play with.

One corner of Eiri's lips lifted at the sight of the bulge in one of the pockets of the box's lid, remembering the little plug he'd quietly bought and which he and Shuichi hadn't had a chance to use yet. Slipping it out, he rolled it in his palm

The toy had a bit of a Y-shape to it. Of the two arms closest to each other, one started out with a slim root then swelled suddenly into a mushroom bulb, edges flaring slightly. The other two thin arms played the role of holding the bulb in place and Eiri allowed himself a moment to imagine the bulb swallowed up inside the singer, Shu's tight ring closed snugly around the bulb's slim neck. One short arm would extend just under Shu's balls and the other up between his cheeks, the angle of intrusion ensuring the bulb pressed gently into Shu's prostate.

Delicious.

Eiri quickly shoved the box back under the bed, standing to fetch the lube and dish from the bedside drawer. He poured a generous amount into the dish and set it out on Shuichi's dresser along with the toy, flicking on the singer's hair dryer to warm up the lube a bit for what he had in mind.

Right on time, Shu stepped into the room, briefs on and towelling his hair. Eiri smiled when, not watching where he was going, Shuichi bumped right into him.

"Oh, sorry!" Shuichi said, looking up at him. Eiri pushed the towel to hang around Shu's neck then pulled the singer flush up against himself. "Eiri?"

"Hmm," he hummed, lowering his head to press his nose to Shu's hairline. "Fresh from the shower." He quietly asked, "Did you wash well?" Sliding one hand gently over the singer's ass, he left no doubt as to what he meant, Shuichi shivering in reaction to the touch.

"_H-hai_," he breathed, already beginning to melt.

"Good boy," Eiri whispered then gently captured Shuichi's lips in a kiss. He teased at Shu's mouth, licking at the singer's mouth before dipping in, sweeping his tongue over Shu's, grasping at the singer's lips with his own and swallowing the resulting moans. He lifted his head only when Shuichi had slumped completely against him, pressing closer and an interested hardness pressed up against his leg. Pleased at the sight of the singer's glazed eyes, he breathed, "Hmm."

He reached over Shu's shoulder to the dish, dipping in and liberally coating his fingers then, knuckles first to protect the lube, slipped his hand into Shu's underwear, fingertips unfurling to touch at Shuichi's opening.

"Eiri..." he moaned softly.

Bending his head, Eiri kissed Shuichi again, taking his slow and deliberate time in an extremely leisurely kiss, long minutes in which his fingers only rubbed back and forth or around the rim of Shuichi's opening until it flared hungrily at his touch and he finally slipped a finger in. Shuichi moaned into the kiss, grip tightening on the writer's jacket.

Leisurely, Eiri opened him up, finger dipping gently to stretch and lube the way, another finger coming into play, while all the time he kept up the kiss, enjoying the way Shuichi alternately lifted himself up to Eiri's mouth and pressed back into his hand, not quite sure which way he most wanted to go. When the third finger slipped in, Shuichi pulled back a little to pant and Eiri thought he might be starting to lose his breath, too.

"Wait," he whispered. "Not yet."

Shuichi nodded and Eiri withdrew his fingers, thumb pulling the briefs low. Then he reached for the bulb and dipped it into the dish, swirling the toy around in the lube before bringing to Shuichi's ass. Slowly, he danced it over the opening, the singer writhing a little in anticipation.

"Shh," he admonished, tightening his arm around Shu, "Patience."

Then he captured Shuichi in a kiss again, harder this time, slanting his mouth over the singer's and sweeping deeply, rubbing up against Shuichi's tongue just the way they both liked it, nudging the toy against Shuichi's hole in time to the thrusts of his tongue. When Shuichi began to open to it, moaning deep in his throat, Eiri pressed it in a little more firmly, felt it begin to sink inside, the ring of muscle completely relaxed and giving way. He broke the kiss with a sigh and lifted his head to watch.

Eyes closed, Shuichi's face scrunched up slightly in reaction to its entry, lips parted, panting gently. His brow wrinkled briefly as it smoothed in and when it finally settled, muscles clamping down, he gasped. Eiri couldn't resist a quick tilt of the toy rubbing it up inside him and making him draw a quick breath.

"Good?"

"Uh-hmm," Shuichi breathed, eyes still blissfully shut.

"Good." Eiri smirked and abruptly stepped out of the singer's hold, delivering a quick slap to one ass cheek, the singer's eyes popping open. "Now get dressed." Then he went to wash his hands, leaving Shuichi stunned and standing there, who broke out of his daze only just as Eiri got back.

"You _asshole!_" Shuichi exclaimed, not moving, fists clenched and glaring.

"This is part of the deal, brat," Eiri said calmly, amused the brat had no way of moving right now with that arousal in the way. "You get the date you'd have wanted if you'd won, complete with all the trimmings," He inclined his head, "And I get sex."

"Date and trimmings?" he asked, sounding excited but then Shuichi's eyes widened a moment before fearfully whispering, "_Public_ sex?" One corner of Eiri's lips quirked upward and he groaned, "Are you insane? We could get caught!"

"Won't quite be anyone to catch us," Eiri muttered, slipping his usual public sex paraphernalia packet into his jacket pocket: a little black slim pouch of lube, a travel pack of wet wipes, condoms and a folded ziplock. Smiling slightly to himself, he also tucked two handkerchiefs into his trouser pocket.

The idiot had probably guessed, judging by the earlier excitement, what this all meant, the gesture it represented; Eiri was making an effort. It might be a bull-headed and never to be uttered beyond this room type of gesture but it was an effort nonetheless.

Turning, he found Shu hadn't moved, watching him with a kind of fond irritation he'd come to recognise well from the singer. "Just get dressed," he said impatiently, "Or we'll miss our reservations."

He left Shuichi standing there when the doorbell rang, striding down the hall to collect an expected cardboard box from the delivery man, checking through the little plastic window it contained what he'd ordered, handing over a small tip and nodding in thanks. He set out his and Shuichi's dark gray shoes while he was there, and went to the bathroom to fix his hair, bringing the box with him just in case.

Suitably tousled-looking, tie adjusted, clothes straightened, he stepped out into the hallway just as Shuichi came out of the bedroom.

"Very nice," Eiri murmured appreciatively, eyes skimming upward over the slim fit of Shuichi's black custom trousers, enjoying the way they hugged his hips and undoubtedly his ass, shoe-matching belt in place. Pink shirt tucked in, he wore a dove gray texture striped tie to match Eiri's suit as well as his own belt and shoes. With his fitted black jacket on he looked the very picture of a groomed pop star.

Except for that slight frown on his face... which Eiri remedied by lifting up the box in his hand into Shuichi's line of sight.

"Is that...?" he asked softly, moving carefully forward. Eiri nodded. Taking the box from him, Shuichi murmured, "They're beautiful." He opened it, pulling out the two fresh, pink roses mounted on pins, adorned with bright leaves and sprigs of white baby's breath. He smiled and held one up, Eiri taking the box and the other flower, then pinned it to the writer's lapel, smoothing the fabric down with a little smile, "Perfect."

Eiri pinned its mate to Shuichi's jacket in the same place he now wore his own and teased, "Am I forgiven yet?"

Trying to swallow his widening smile, shining eyes belying his words, "I'm thinking about it."

Eiri's phone buzzed from his pocket and he fished it out, irritated by the interruption, "What?"

_"Good evening Yuki-sensei. My name is Miyanaga from Shimano Chauffeur Services, I'm parked downstairs at the basement level and await you at your convenience."_

"Good evening," Eiri belatedly returned, tone less aggressive. "Thank you. We'll be down shortly." He snapped his phone shut, "Our ride's here. Let's go." He snickered when they got the foot well and Shuichi looked down at his shoes, so near yet so far, dread on his face. "Sit here," he gestured to his lap, "So it doesn't press up into you."

Shuichi shot him a dark glower but, once Eiri had his shoes on and had straightened out his legs, he took the offer and the slight gap between the writer's legs provided the toy a little more room to stay exactly where it was than pressed in deeper.

"This date better be fucking fantastic," Shuichi grumbled, glaring as he walked stiffly by Eiri's side at a much more commonly regular pace than his exuberant skip-jumping excitement.

Eiri rolled his eyes as they stepped into the lift, the words teasing at his temper. Stamping down on it, he made himself think of the evening ahead and his plans for them both. Patience under control, he led the way out and to the elegant little limousine waiting for them. The chauffeur stepped out to open their door for them and Eiri sped up a bit to enter first and find that pillow he'd asked for. Setting it beside himself, he raised a brow at Shuichi who, catching sight of the little prop, a coiled cushion with a large indentation right in the middle, gratefully sat down and strapped in.

"Thank you," Shu grumbled, cheeks a delightfully dark pink.

Eiri leaned over, incredibly aroused and a little impressed, to whisper into Shu's hair, "You're welcome."

--

The Intercontinental restaurant had superb security, incredibly beautiful interiors, four-star rated food, good live performance and impeccable service. Seated in a darkened alcove nearer to the stage than one would expect, Eiri glanced across the table at his lover shifting absently in his seat on that silly cushion they'd brought along from the limo.

Shuichi had pulled his shirt out of his trousers just a little after they'd sat down, high colour in his cheeks in embarrassment when the toy's effects kept the front of his trousers oddly raised. Initially, Eiri had teased him with slow touches up his arms, light caresses to his knee and a little up his legs until Shuichi, blushing hard, pushed the touches away. Eiri had even leaned over a few times to kiss the brat's cheek or nibble on his ear.

But then dinner arrived and the show began so Eiri left off the teasing. Now Shuichi looked like he'd forgotten his mortification, smiling bright eyed and happy, expression free of all worries and tension, looking like he no longer cared his lover had beat him a few thousand multiples over in sales numbers or had asked for public sex as a prize.

He looked beautiful.

Eiri could feel himself respond to that thought, coupled with the idea that the brat belonged to him, loved him, wore a butt plug in public for him, turned him on. He couldn't help but stare. Shuichi sensed the eyes on him soon after, turning to give a soft smile.

Breath whooshed out of him in a deep pull in reaction to the tenderness in the singer's eyes but Eiri found some breath to ask, "How was dinner?"

"Really good," Shuichi replied happily, "I usually don't like western food so much but the sauce was pretty rich and it had spices in it so I could really taste it –you know how I think western food is bland—so this wasn't anything like that and I hope we eat here again soon."

"Hn." He resisted the urge to tease the kid for the rambling and instead tilted his head at his lover, studying the flushed cheeks, the smile, the _joy_ and he knew _he'd caused that. _The power felt a little dizzying. "So am I forgiven yet?"

Grinning, Shuichi reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it a moment and leaning over to softly whisper, "I love you."

"I'll take that as a yes," Eiri smiled back, stroking his hand up his lover's thigh.

Shuichi blushed and squirmed.

--

"We're here," Eiri murmured, helping Shuichi out of the car. Once he was sure the brat had his feet, he tugged off the blindfold.

Shuichi gasped at the sight of the semi-dark _Odaiba_ Amusement Park. "It's—" Half the lights were down, "Closed." He blinked then turned to his lover. "What's going on here?"

"I booked out the place in its out-of-hours," Eiri said, accepting the little cushion Miyanaga handed him –Shuichi's sitting pillow for the night. "Well, not the whole place, just parts of it."

"You _what?!_" Shuichi exclaimed, voice cracking an octave higher in shock, arms flapping upward in his extreme surprise. "Really?!"

"Stop yelling," ordered the writer, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting up. He took a deep drag, relishing the rush of nicotine, "Let's go." And he led the way past the guards stationed and into the park to the waiting young woman just inside.

"Good evening, Yuki-sensei," she said and bowed. "We've left the three amusements open for you as you requested." She presented him with a large bag of token coins and a slip of paper. "Please keep this phone number with you at all times should you require the assistance of a member of staff." She gestured to herself and another guy standing just behind and beside her, both of them smiling politely.

"Thank you," he said, smiling slightly in return and giving a courteous nod.

"Well then," she bowed again, "We shall remain here until you need help. Do enjoy yourselves."

"We will," Eiri told her and tucked the cushion under his arm, grabbing Shuichi's hand, to lead the way into the deserted, half-darkened amusement park.

"Eiri!" Shuichi squawked, arms flapping again, still flustered and a bit confused. "_Odaiba?_ Rides? What?!"

"Only three rides are open," the writer explained patiently. He glanced back, "The rollercoaster, the shooting gallery and the Ferris wheel."

Shuichi stared back in amazement before suddenly tearing up, chin wobbling with emotion. "Eiri? Eiri, wait." He pulled back, forcing the writer to stop else get his arm yanked out of its socket.

"Hn?" He took a deep drag and blew it out. "What?"

"You did all this for our date?" Shuichi quietly asked, purple eyes swimming with happy tears, a grin teasing at his lips. "All for our date?!"

"Something like that," the writer allowed carefully, trying for nonchalant. Couldn't spill all the beans now, could he?

"Eiriiii!!" Shuichi squealed and launched himself into the writer's arms.

Catching the brat, Eiri held him close, giving a resigned sigh to wait out the flood of emotion and excited babble;

"Oh I can't believe you did this, it's so not like you, I would never have guessed! This is so much better than any date I could have ever imagined and I don't care you put the toy in me because I've enjoyed everything we've done tonight! And no press! I can't imagine how you even managed that, it almost seemed like they'd disappeared off the face of the planet and this is all just…! I mean, I know you don't do romance even if you know all about it and what to do, so I never thought you'd do something like this but I totally liked it all and I just _love you so much!!"_

"Breathe," Eiri reminded him, equal parts amused and annoyed, setting the idiot back down. "And don't get any slobber on me."

Letting go to swipe at his tears, Shuichi smiled widely up at him, eyes sparkling. "You're an amazing man for a silly grouch." He shifted a little, smile dimming, a shadow of internal conflict in his eyes a moment before he spoke again, quietly, "I know what you're doing and I'm so happy you did. You really take such good care of me."

Squashing the urge to argue that he really didn't, a trickle of fear still there in the back of his mind that one day Shuichi would notice it too, he simply nodded.

As if reading his mind, Shuichi said quietly, sincerely, on a tone slightly breathy with fondness and that worship Shuichi had for him, "I love you, too."

"Hn," Eiri grunted, curling his arm around his lover's waist. But something warm, as always, expanded in his chest at those tenderly spoken words.

--

After shooting all the zombies dead and earning a shiny-eyed smile of awe from his lover, Eiri led the way to the rollercoaster. He took one look at the swirling loops –since extended from the time they were last here—and glanced back at Shuichi's ass before he asked, "You sure you want to do this?"

Looking conflicted, Shuichi bit at his thumb. "I really want to do this right."

And for some reason, Eiri instantly knew that the brat understood he'd been re-creating their first date. Shuichi had fallen seamlessly into the plan, maybe to replace all the bad memories it had bookmarked in their lives even if it had all happened years ago. He sighed then said, "We could… skip it… or take _that _out… if you want to."

"I don't want to skip this." Shuichi glanced over at him then quickly looked away, a bright flush coming to his cheeks, "And I just got used to it, I don't want to take it out."

Swallowing back a smile, Eiri led the way onto the train, nodding at the attendant as they took their seats. Shuichi looked incredibly nervous as they started the ascent, shifting a little on the cushion. But when the ride crested over, the fall blew away all his worries, he raised his arms and screamed happily, enjoying every moment.

Eiri rather thought those joyful sounds were some of the sweetest he'd heard. And he would _never_ admit it.

"Enjoyed that, hm?" he asked, noticing that the long tails of Shu's shirt could not quite disguise the bulge beneath. The rattling and shaking of the ride must have nudged the toy around enough to remind the singer it could do its job.

"_Mou,_" Shuichi grumbled and clasped his hands before himself, trying to hide the swelling, looking adorably cute with his pink cheeks and down-turned eyes. "This is difficult enough as it is without the teasing."

"Next stop," Eiri announced, turning to look at their destination, "The Ferris wheel. We didn't get to do that on our last trip here. We took the boat instead."

"Uh-huh!" agreed the singer, starting forward and clasping his hand in Eiri's. "This time, we get the wheel and all to ourselves." He scrunched up his nose, "I'm not so sure I like heights, though."

"I'm very sure," Eiri said carefully, voice heavy with meaning, "You will enjoy this."

Shuichi gave him an odd look at his strange tone of voice.

They nodded to the attendant in greeting and were let into their cabin, the man saying as he shut he gate, "As you requested, the Ferris wheel is running a bit slower than its usual turn run." He saluted, "It's only about forty percent slower but I hope that's alright."

"Thank you," Eiri said. "We'll stay on for a few turns and wave when we're ready to get off. We have a lot to talk about."

"I'm sure you do," the guy said, chuckling as he stepped away and started it up.

"What was that about?" Shuichi asked, sitting far across on the other side of the cabin as the ride started.

Eiri didn't say anything, watching the ground fall away.

"Eiri?"

Instead of answering, the writer slowly, deliberately, unbuckled and inched his trousers down, lifting his hips a bit to let the soft and slippery fabric whisper easily down his legs to his calves. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, he winked at Shuichi and slipped those down too. After loosening his tie, he shrugged out of his jacket, pulling out his little packet from the pocket, dumping out the contents onto the bench beside him, plucking up a condom and ripping it open.

The sound jerked Shuichi to his feet but not a step forward. The singer's eyes had darkened almost to black as he watched Eiri slowly roll the condom on himself.

"Come here," he whispered. Shuichi moved slowly forward as though in a trance and he had to say, "You'll need your trousers off for this."

Hurrying to obey, Shuichi gracelessly discarded his shoes then unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall, stepping out of them even as he reached for his own underwear. When he tried to bend down to get them off, he froze and moaned.

"Can I help you?" Eiri asked, holding back a little laugh at the restriction in movement the toy forced on the little singer.

Shuichi nodded, moving closer, eyes sliding down to the proudly risen erection between Eiri's legs.

Reaching for Shuichi's briefs and with the brat standing, it was so easy to lean forward and--

"Ahh!" Shuichi breathlessly gasped, hands curling into Eiri's hair.

Swallowing back a snicker, Eiri relished the gasp he got in reaction to the swallow, he refitted his lips around the growing hardness as he pulled the singer's underwear down and away. He bowed his head downward, Shuichi lifting his hips a bit to meet the thrust, flattening his tongue on the underside where it was quite sensitive.

"Ungh!" Shuichi gasped and choked. He swallowed quickly then moaned.

Eiri lifted off slowly, sucking firmly, fingertips of one hand dusting over the tightening, shifting sac below. "Good?" Shuichi moaned back incoherently and made him grin, "Straddle me. Stay standing."

Moving jerkily, trembling a bit and very excited, Shu obeyed, kicking his underwear aside, legs split to either side of Eiri's thighs, hands on the writer's shoulders. Just the right height, Eiri thought, and bent his head again –Shuichi groaned.

He stretched it out, bobbing his head in a very slow tempo without picking up the pace at all, fingers nudging the toy's base, moving it gently, rocking it rhythmically back and forth, making Shu babble, groan deeply and rock his hips in sync. He took his time, licking, sucking, twisting, and relishing all the sounds his little lover made, employing all his skills but doing so very slowly –he didn't want this to end yet.

Eiri suddenly stilled.

Shuichi panted a moment then dazedly asked, "Wha...?" He licked dry lips and tried again, "Wh... why'd you stop?"

"We're heading back down," Eiri murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked up.

Shuichi blinked down at his lover, blond strands still in his fingers, but then understanding dawned and he growled. "What the hell?"

"Go sit over there for a few minutes," the writer calmly instructed. "Just until we pass the operator and head upward again."

Glaring hotly a moment, Shuichi grit his teeth. Then he stomped back over to the other side of the cabin, causing it to sway a little. He'd probably have thrown himself onto the seat but the toy made him sit carefully down, angled a little onto his hip to keep the pressure off, leaving off the cushion because of the wetness.

Through the long minutes and as though he didn't have his trousers down almost to his ankles, Eiri lit up and smoked. He even used the cigarette to wave to the operator signalling they'd be heading up another round, ignoring the way the man's eyes turned worried at the sight of Shuichi's scowling face.

Out of earshot, he glanced back over at his lover --and nearly choked.

"Having revenge?" he asked huskily, eyeing the slow stroking of Shuichi's hand up and down his own shaft. Shu angled a little grin at him. "Hm. Feeling better I see." He gestured, "Come here, we don't have much time around the next loop."

Shuichi scrambled over back into position, Eiri bowing his head to lick at the brat's hardness as he firmly gripped the toy's stem and began to pull it out. Shuichi's fingers buried in his hair as he worked, tonguing the slit and curling his tongue tip along the flare of the head. When the toy popped free, Shuichi giving a gasp, he dropped it carelessly to the floor and gripped Shu's hips, guiding his lover down as he raised his own hips.

Shuichi pressed backward determinedly and took Eiri into himself in one solid thrust, throwing his head back with a wordless gasp.

Growling, Eiri couldn't wait, reaching for and ripping open a condom packet, unrolling it onto Shuichi. Then, tossing the wrapper back, he immediately tilted his hips backward as best he could as he guided Shuichi into a rocking motion on his lap away from himself, then pulled him back, pushing upward, making the singer moan and cling to him. He repeated the movement, biting down on the singer's shoulder, urging the brat to move with him.

Bracing his feet, Shuichi followed, lifting only just enough to add more friction, add to the coiling of gathering tension in Eiri's lower belly, the pleasure coursing through his blood.

"Eiri," Shuichi groaned. Then he dipped his head and licked up the writer's neck to nip at Eiri's sensitive ear.

"Shuichi," he growled back, pulling his lover down harder on that thrust and pushing upward with such force he'd braced his weight up off the bench between his back on the backrest and his feet on the floor.

They moved together, trying to draw out each thrust but also hurrying a little to the finish line with this just because there wasn't enough time. The excitement of it all made Eiri thrust up a little harder than he'd intended;

"Ahh!" Shuichi gasped, curling inward, slouching so that his forehead fell to the writer's shoulder. "Close."

He really wanted to stop. He wanted to pull Shuichi up, make he kid stand so he could take the brat into his mouth and make him come, then force him back down on to his dick and fuck him all over again. Wild, possessive, dirty thoughts filled his head but then he remembered... if he did that, Shuichi would ache.

They wouldn't be moving on to the second part of his plan, that walk along the pier in the moonlight like the brat surely would have wanted and wouldn't smile that bright eyed and happy expression free of all worries and tension—

"Shu," Eiri groaned, reaching for Shuichi's hardness and pumping him, enjoying the way his lover tensed in his arms. Shuichi's depths contracted around him and he grimaced as he thrust, the hot, coiling pleasure contracting then swiftly expanding, and release rushed through him. In his arms, Shuichi gasped and bit his shoulder, a high cry slipping out of his throat, coming apart at almost the same time.

Panting, Eiri listened to the Ferris wheel creak and the wind blow against the cabin. Through blurry vision he registered Shuichi's content little smile, nudging Shu's face up so they could kiss slowly, savouring it and each other.

How many times was he going to ask this, he wondered sarcastically but too pleased to care, "Good?"

"Yea," Shuichi sighed contentedly, snuggling in, arms wrapping tightly about the writer's shoulders.

The Ferris wheel had begun the downward sweep now but Eiri knew neither of them could be bothered to move. Four hours of foreplay and teasing, dark eyes and knowing looks could wear even two very sexual people out.

"He'll see us," the writer murmured, but he didn't particularly care. "You don't mind?" Shuichi couldn't even be bothered to reply in words or even nod his head. He simply made an affirmative noise and held on. So Eiri leaned back and tucked Shu's head under his chin.

When they passed the operator again, the guy caught sight of them snuggled in together, smiled and turned his back.

Eiri glanced up at the bright night sky as they ascended again, thinking they really should rest for a bit just now. Shuichi, breathing gently against his collarbone, would need his energy for that walk in the moonlight. And he for the squeals the brat would surely give at how romantic it all was.

They'd come a long way, he suddenly realised, breathing in Shuichi's strawberry scent. They both had. After all the challenges, pains, joys and contradictions, perhaps even a long journey forward sometimes needs a 'full circle' to move on to its next cycle. And who knew what tomorrow would bring?

A corner of his lips lifted slightly at these thoughts and he tightened his hold on his lover and he considered, all's been fair in this love and war.

_Fin._

* * *

**_Author Notes: _**

_Don't forget to leave me some love...! The muses are drying up a bit on this series and it'd be great to hear from you all on what you thought of this installment._


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